■ 


READINGS  IN"  FOLK-LORE 


SHORT  STUDIES  IN  THE   MYTHOLOGY  OF  AMERICA,  GREAT 

BRITAIN,   THE   NORSE  COUNTRIES,   GERMANY,   INDIA, 

SYRIA,  EGYPT,  AND  PERSIA ;  WITH  SELECTIONS 

FROM    STANDARD    LITERATURE 

RELATING   TO   THE  SAME 


BY 

HUBERT  M.  SKINNER,  A.M. 

AUTHOR     "F     THE     SCHOOLMASTER     IN     LITERATURE 


NEW  YORK  •:•  CINCINNATI  ■:•  CHICAGO 
AMERICAN     BOOK     COMPANY 


COPTEIGHT,    1893,   BT 

AMERICAN  BOOK  COMPANY. 


prtntcC  bg 

TOUm.   •flvteon 

IRew  Korfe,  TO.  5.  H, 


V 


TN 

aw 


PREFACE 


This  book  is  intended  as  a  companion  volume  to  the 
Historical  Readings,  which  has  proved  so  popular  as  a  book 
of  culture  for  teachers  and  students ;  and  as  the  latter  is  a 
volume  of  prose  and  of  recorded  fact,  this  is  a  book  of  poems 
and  of  popular  beliefs. 

The  myths  of  legend  and  of  pure  fable,  whether  related 
to  false  religions  or  otherwise,  are  often  of  great  interest  to 
the  student  and  the  general  reader.  So  interwoven  are  the 
faith  and  the  folk-lore  of  a  people  with  its  literature  and  art 
that  an  acquaintance  with  its  mythology  is  necessary  to  an 
understanding  of  its  higher  .expressions  of  thought  and  feel- 
ing.    Such  knowledge  is  highly  essential  to  the  teacher. 

Mythology  is  something  more  than  an  auxiliary  study. 
It  is  a  memorial  of  humanity's  childhood.  It  possesses  a 
charm  of  its  own  for  those 

Who  have  faith  in  Sod  and  Nature, 

Who  believe  that  in  all  ages 

Every  human  heart  is  human, 

That  in  even  savage  bosoms 

Then-  are  Longings,  yearnings,  strivings, 

For  the  good  they  comprehend  not. 

Formerly  the  subjects  of  popular  study  in  mythology 
were  confined  to  the  divinities  of  ancient  Greece  and  Rome. 


411; 


4  PREFACE. 

In  later  years  a  general  interest  has  been  awakened  in  the 
myths  of  other  lands,  and  for  these  a  marked  preference  has 
been  shown  at  times  in  the  popular  pageants  of  cities  and  in 
the  subjects  of  contributions  to  current  literature. 

In  this  volume  are  presented  the  principal  American, 
British,  Norse,  German,  Hindu,  Syrian,  Egyptian,  and  Per- 
sian myths,  with  representative  selections  from  the  literature 
relating  thereto. 

The  selections  from  Longfellow,  Lowell,  and  Whittier 
are  used  by  permission  of  and  arrangement  with  Messrs. 
Houghton,  Mifflin  and  Company.  .  The  writer  is  under  a 
similar  obligation  to  Messrs.  D.  Appleton  and  Company  for 
permission  to  use  selections  from  the  works  of  William  Cullen 
Bryant.  Dr.  Sherman's  splendid  translation  of  Bishop  Teg- 
ner's  Axel  is  used  with  the  permission  of  the  publisher  of 
the  Chautauquan,  in  which  magazine  it  appeared  in  March 
and  April,  1883. 

English  literature  is  rich  in  the  folk-lore  of  various  lands, 
and  many  of  its  poems  relating  to  mythical  and  legendary 
characters  afford  a  delightful  and  profitable  study,  not  only 
as  models  of  literary  composition,  but  also  as  illustrations  of 
the  genius  and  character  of  the  people  among  whom  their 
subjects  originated. 

To  teachers  and  students  this  work  is  commended,  in  the 
hope  that  it  will  lead  to  a  further  study  and  a  higher  appre- 
ciation of  the  various  forms  of  literature  and  art  to  which  it 

relates. 

H.  M.  S. 


CONTENTS. 


PAGE 

The  Nature  and  Value  of  Folk-lore 7 

American  Folk-LORE 15 

Notes  of  Literature 20 

An  Indian  Story  .        .        .  Will  turn  Cullen  Bryant    21 

The  I). •Mill  Lament  of  the  Nadowessie  Chieftain. 

Johann  C.  F.  von  Schiller 

Comanche  Boy Fcu/writ  A.  Darden 


The  <  lulpril  Pay 


British  Folk-lore    . 
Notes  of  Literature 
The  Faerie  Queene 
Boadicea 

Trisl  ram  of  Ly ssse  . 

Guinevere 

Childe  Roland  to  i  hi 

The  Voyage  of  Mar: 

Bladoc  . 

Tam  o'  Shanter    . 


rowe 


Folk-lore 
Notes  of  l. iii  raiurc 
The  Song  of  Vala 
Thorwald's  Lay    . 
The  Norsemen 
TegneYs  Fridthjofj 
TegneY   The  S 

German  Folk-lore    . 
Notec  "i  Literature 
The  Story  of  Sigurd  i  he  \ 
Fausl 


Joseph  Rodman  Drake 


Edmund  Spt  nst  r 

William  <  'owper 

Algernon  < '.  Swinburne 

Alfred,  Lord  7"<  nnyson 

c     .     Robert  Browning 

Alfred,  Lord  Tt  nnyson 

Robert  Southey 

.   h'nh,  ri  Burns 


24 
25 
26 

39 

50 

54 

!)() 

92 

101 

118 

L25 

133 

142 


150 

L56 

William  Herbert  L60 

James  Russell  Lowell  163 

Paid  i '.  Sinding  165 

.    Oscar  Baker  167 

A.  A.  Sherman  17<i 

L98 

IDS 

William  Mom 

./<ili, inn  W.  von  Goetht  •-'."•' 


6  CONTENTS. 

PAGE 

German  Folk-lore: 

The  Erl-King Johann  W.  von  Goethe  256 

The  Pied  Piper  of  Hamelin         .        .        .     Robert  Browning  257 
The  Loreley Heinrich  Heine  265 

Hindu  Folk-lore 267 

Notes  of  Literature 271 

Nala  and  Damayanti Sir  Edwin  Arnold  274 

The  Light  of  Asia Sir  Edwin  Arnold  301 

The  God  and  the  Bayadere  .        .        .     Johann  W.  von  Goethe  318 

Jaga-Naut Robert  Southey  321 

Brahma Ralph  Waldo  Emerson  324 

Syrian  and  Assyrian  Folk-lore 326 

Notes  of  Literature 329 

Sardanapalus        .         .        .        .        .        .        .      Lord  Byron  331 

The  Destruction  of  Sennacherib  ....      Lord  Byron  350 

Assyrian  Night-Song Bayard  Taylor  351 

Egyptian  Folk-lore 353 

Notes  of  Literature 355 

Address  to  the  Mummy  at  Belzoni's  Exhibition  Horace  Smith  357 

Hymn  to  the  Nile F.  C.  Cook  360 

Isis  and  Osiris Edmund  Spenser  362 

To  the  Nile Bayard  Taylor  364 

Persian  Folk-lore 366 

Notes  of  Literature 373 

Paradise  and  the  Peri Thomas  Moore  376 

Sohrab  and  Rustuin Matthew  Arnold  391 

The  Rubaiyat  of  Omar  Khayyam        .        .  Edward  Fitzgerald  408 

An  Ode  from  Hafiz Herman  Bicknell  417 

West-Eastern  Divan     ....     Johann  W.  von  Goethe  418 
Abou  Ben  Adhem  and  the  Angel       James  Henry  Leigh  Hunt  439 

Index 441 


THE    NATURE    AXD   VALUE    OF   FOLK-LORE. 

Before  the  written  history  of  any  old  nation  was  begun, 
the  memory  of  men  and  events  was  perpetuated  in  public 
observances  by  the  people,  and  especially  in  the  fireside  tales 
and  simple  lays  which  constituted  what  modern  writers  are 
disposed  to  designate  as  folk-lore. 

Old  legends  of  the  nations  do  not  relate  to  men  only. 
Often  they  tell  of  supernatural  beings ;  of  huge  giants  and 
minute  fairies;  of  prodigious  heroes;  of  genii,  demigods, 
and  gods ;  of  monsters  such  as  dragons,  griffins,  and  winged 
horses ;  of  wonderful  lands,  unknown  to  the  geographer. 

How  these  traditions  of  the  supernatural  originated  is  a 
problem  to  which  much  attention  has  been  directed,  espe- 
cially within  the  present  century.  There  are  four  schools 
of  critics  who  maintain  diverse  theories  as  to  the  true  inter- 
pretation of  them. 

First  among  these  are  the  Euhemerists,  who  have  held 
their  ground  from  ancient  days  (having  originated  with 
Euhemerus,  the  Greek),  and  have  been  reenforced  in  later 
centuries  by  Snorre  Sturleson  and  Saxo  Grammaticus,  by 
Peder  Frederik  Suhm,  Rasmus  Christian  Rusk,  and  others. 
They  maintain  that  the  legends  originated  in  fact;  that  de- 
viations from  the  original  fact  are  the  natural  result  of  long 
transmission  by  the  ignorant  masses,  given  to  exaggeration 
and  influenced  by  superstition.  According  to  the  Euheme- 
rists, the  heathen  gods  were  originally  nun;  the  dragons, 
strange  and  fierce  reptiles;  the  Elysian  abodes,  real  ••nun- 
tries,  left  behind  in  the  wanderings  of  tribes  and  nations. 

A  second  class  of  critics,  among  them  William  and  Mary 


8       NATURE  AND   VALUE  OF  FOLK-LORE. 

Howitt,  hold  that  the  mythologies  of  heathen  nations  are  but 
corruptions  of  the  true  religion  originally  revealed  to  man. 

Other  writers  on  the  subject  declare  that  the  deities  and 
prodigies  of  ancient  mythology  are  but  symbols — though 
these  writers  are  not  agreed  among  themselves  as  to  the 
nature  of  the  symbolism.  Some  hold  that  abstract  virtues 
and  vices,  mental  and  moral  powers,  are  thus  represented. 
Others,  including  modern  critics  of  great  eminence,  main- 
I  tain  with  Max  Midler  that  the  physical  forces  of  Nature  are 
symbolized.  "  There  is  no  doubt,"  says  Prof.  R.  B.  Ander- 
son, "  that  this  is  the  true  interpretation  of  all  mytholo- 
gies ;  .  .  .  but  the  ethical,  or,  perhaps  better,  the  spiritual, 
and  the  physical  interpretations  must  be  combined." 

It  would  seem  that  there  is  truth  in  all  these  interpre- 
tations of  mythology,  applied  variously,  according  to  the 
nature  and  form  of  the  myth.  Clearly  they  are  all  appli- 
cable to  folk-lore — which  is  far  more  comprehensive  than 
mythology. 

In  the  light  of  modern  criticism,  the  value  of  a  tradition 
is  not  to  be  measured  by  its  fidelity  to  strict  and  literal  fact. 
For  many  centuries  Christians  in  all  parts  of  the  world  have 
celebrated  with  festivity  the  25th  day  of  December  as  the 
day  of  the  year  on  which  the  Saviour  was  born.  The  date 
is  merely  traditionary,  with  little  evidence  or  probability 
to  support  it ;  but  this  fact  does  not  detract  at  all  from  the 
happiness  which  Christmas  brings,  or  from  the  value  to  the 
Christian  world  of  the  observances  of  the  day. 

For  another  illustration  of  this  truth,  it  matters  little 
whether  Horatius  or  Mucins  or  Curtius  or  Virginius,  sup- 
posititious heroes  of  early  Eome,  ever  really  existed ;  but  it 
does  matter  to  us  to  have  heard  of  them — to  have  viewed 
the  pictures  which  they  present  of  virtue  and  worth  in  the 
society  of  old  Roman  days. 

The  tales  which  make  up  most  of  the  early  history  of 
Rome  have  been  differently  viewed  by  three  successive  schools 
of  historical  writers.     At  first,  and  for  many  centuries,  these 


NATURE  AND  VALUE  OF  FOLK-LORE.       9 

narrations  were  accepted  and  gravely  taught  as  reliable  his- 
tory. Then  a  critical  examination  of  their  internal  evidences 
showed  that  they  were  of  doubtful  credibility,  sometimes 
absurdly  improbable  as  statements  of  literal  fact.  This  led 
later  reviewers  to  discard  them  in  toto,  with  disgust — as  being 
worthless  for  historical  purposes,  because  of  their  doubtful 
character.  Then  it  was  that  Niebuhr  arose.  Admitting  the 
claim  that  the  early  legends  are  not  statements  of  facts,  he 
yet  held  that  they  are  of  very  great  value  to  the  world,  as 
illustrating  the  spirit,  the  manners  and  customs,  the  religious 
beliefs,  and  other  characteristics  of  the  race  with  whom  they 
originated.  And  his  view  is  the  view  of  the  world  to-day. 
There  is  an  additional  reason  for  the  study  of  these  narrations 
by  the  teacher  and  the  student.  They  are  told  over  and  over 
in  admired  poems.  They  are  portrayed  in  painting  and 
sculpture.  They  are  common  material  fo.r  illustration  in 
oratory.  They  are  subjects  of  exercises  in  translation  in 
school  text-books.  Though  subordinated  to  the  facts  of  his- 
tory, they  will  be  of  greater  value  to  the  reader  than  the  un- 
questioned history  of  the  same  period  will  be.  The  great 
truth  enunciated  by  Niebuhr  relates  as  well  to  William  Tell 
and  to  Pocahontas  as  to  any  hero  of  early  Rome.  It  is  broad 
and  general  in  its  application. 

This  volume  is  devoted  chiefly  to  the  folk-lore  of  modern 
and  Northern  nations,  which  usually  possesses  a  somber  char- 
acter, as  compared  with  the  lightness  and  comedy  of  the 
folk-lore  of  Southern  lands.  Generally  it  is  solemn  and 
striking;  often  it  teaches  great  lessons  of  truth.  It  never 
deals  lightly  with  lapses  from  virtue  ;  it  is  full  of  admonition 
and  warning.  The  remorse  of  Queen  Guinevere,  the  moral 
self-destruction  of  Tristram  and  Iseult,  the  indomitable  quest 
of  Childe  Roland,  the  grand  warfare  of  opposing  forces  in 
Ragnarok,  the  tremendous  tragedies  of  the  Nibelungcnlied, 
the  fall  of  Faust,  the  spiriting  away  of  the  children  of 
Hameln — all  are  typical  of  the  folk-lore  from  which  they 
are  taken,  and  are  representative  of  the  peoples  with  whom 


lO     NATURE  AMD   VALUE  OF  FOLK- LOBE. 

they  originated.  They  are,  moreover,  in  striking  contrast 
with  the  brighter  folk-lore  of  other  lands  and  with  the 
debased  mythology  of  Egypt. 

The  folk-lore  of  India  has  the  warmth  of  the  South,  but 
still  attests  the  unity  of  the  Indo-European  race  in  its  de- 
lineation of  stern  realities  and  in  the  self-abnegation  of 
Prince  Siddartha. 

The  folk-lore  of  the  Orient  contains  much  that  is  beau- 
tiful, and  its  beauty  is  enhanced  by  the  deeper  hues  of  its 
counterpart  in  the  Western  world. 

Not  only  the  critics  of  the  present  century,  but  the  poets 
as  well,  have  given  their  attention  to  the  tales  of  folk-lore, 
and  these  have  often  formed  the  subject  of  their  loftiest 
strains.  Tennyson,  Browning,  Moore,  Swinburne,  Tegner, 
Southey,  Emerson,  Lowell,  Goethe,  Schiller,  Longfellow,  Sir 
Edwin  Arnold,  Matthew  Arnold,  William  Morris,  and  others 
have  placed  in  enduring  and  beautiful  form  these  wonderful 
pictures  that  have  come  down  to  us  from  far-off  years. 

Thus  far  we  have  been  considering  folk-lore  from  an  his- 
torical and  critical  point  of  view,  and  have  referred  to  the 
more  striking  and  systematic  forms  in  which  it  appears.  The 
subject  is  of  greater  interest,  however,  when  viewed  from  the 
standpoint  of  the  thought  and  feeling  of  every-day  life. 

Folk-lore  consists  not  merely  of  complete  legends  and 
songs;  it  comes  to  us  broken  up  in  ten  thousand  frag- 
mentary forms.  We  find  it  in  our  familiar  proverbs,  adages, 
and  mottoes.  It  appears  in  the  idioms  of  our  speech.  It 
brings  to  us  the  experiences  of  the  race  in  many  pithy  say- 
ings. It  comes  to  the  child  in  its  cradle,  in  its  simplest  lul- 
laby. It  brings  to  young  children  a  world  of  happy  thought 
in  its  nursery  tales  and  childish  rhymes. 

When  the  reader  shall  have  studied  the  more  majestic 
fabrics  of  folk-lore,  he  will  find  a  pleasing  field  for  inves- 
tigation in  the  common  and  even  the  trifling  legacies  of 
other  days. 

Mother  Goose's  Melodies  is  a  book  of  no  little  interest 


NATURE  AND  VALVE  OF  FOLK-LOBE.      11 

to  the  scholar.  Through  how  many  centuries  of  babyhood 
have  come  down  to  us  the  references  to  two  of  the  legendary 
kings  of  Britain  in  the  lines — 

Old  King  Cole 
Was  a  rnerry  old  soul, 
and 

When  good  King  Arthur  ruled  this  land 
He  was  a  goodly  king,  etc. ! 

Jack  Horner — a  veritable  personage — and  his  pie  (filled 
with  parchment  deeds  for  plums)  carry  us  back  to  the  days 
of  Henry  VIII.  By  the  way,  do  we  not  now  speak  of  po- 
litical plums  for  office-seekers  ? 

Mother  Hubbard  is  no  other  than  the  heroine  of  Mother 
HiibhercVs  Tale,  an  old  poem  of  Queen  Elizabeth's  time, 
written  by  Edmund  Spenser. 

Mother  Goose  herself  was  not  a  myth,  but  was  made  so  to 
appear  through  her  graceless  son-in-law,  Thomas  Fleet,  a 
printer  of  Boston,  who  long  ago  lampooued  the  venerable 
dame  for  her  never-ending  singing  of  folk-ditties  to  her 
precious  grandchild.  We  may  go  through  the  whole  line 
of  nursery  literature — Little  Red  Riding  Hood,  Cinderella, 
Bluebeard,  Munchausen,  etc. — and  we  shall  find  in  each  a 
reminder  of  some  event  of  past  ages  which  possesses  an  in- 
terest for  children  of  larger  growth. 

The  student  of  the  classics  is  well  aware  of  the  popular 
use  made  of  references  to  old  legendary  characters  of  the 
Greeks  and  Romans.  We  speak  of  a  hectoring  fellow;  a 
stentorian  voice;  a  palladium  of  liberty  ;  an  herculean  feat; 
a  procrustean  rule;  a  friend  and  mentor;  the  protean  forms 
of  water,  etc.  In  all  this  the  student  sees  at  a  glance  the 
direct  reference  to  the  old  tales  of  Hector,  Stentor,  the  Pal- 
ladium, Hercules,  Procrustes,  Mentor,  Proteus,  etc.;  and  the 
words  have  to  lii in  the  full  force  of  the  narratives  to  which 
they  relate. 

It  is  not  necessary,  however,  to  go  back  to  the  ancient 
days  and  the  dead  languages  to  trace  the  origin  of  pregnant 


12     NATURE  AND  VALUE  OF  FOLK-LORE. 

sayings  in  common  use.  Our  political  folk-lore,  for  instance, 
is  of  recent  origin,  and  possesses  a  deep  significance.  We 
have  such  political  expressions  as — log-rolling,  pipe-laying, 
wire-pulling,  gerrymandering,  speaking  for  buncombe,  mend- 
ing fences,  etc.,  each  of  which  refers  humorously  to  a  real 
experience  which  has  become  proverbial.  Of  like  nature  are 
our  party  and  faction  names  and  sobriquets,  as — Barnburners, 
Hunkers,  and  Silver  Grays;  Copperheads  and  Carpetbaggers; 
Old  Hickory  and  Old  Bullion ;  the  Sages  of  Monticello,  Lin- 
denwald,  Montpelier,  and  Ashland ;  the  Little  Giant,  and 
the  Kail-splitter. 

The  theatrical  world  has  also  its  own  folk-lore.  Many  a 
barn-storming  troupe  in  sorry  luck  has  had  to  "  John  Aud- 
ley "  its  play,  and  often  to  present,  practically,  a  "  Hamlet 
with  Hamlet  left  out." 

In  our  daily  conversation  we  find  the  very  essence  of  old 
stories,  of  which  the  moral  adds  force  to  language  and  gives 
it  deeper  meaning.  We  speak  of  Hobson's  choice,  and  Gil- 
deroy's  kite ;  of  having  an  axe  to  grind,  and  of  paying  too 
dear  for  the  whistle ;  of  counting  chickens  before  they  are 
hatched,  and  of  crying  for  spilt  milk.  We  remind  one  an- 
other of  the  dog  in  the  manger,  the  bull  in  the  china  shop, 
the  goose  that  laid  the  golden  egg,  King  Log  and  King  Stork. 
We  speak  of  Old  Dog  Tray,  the  monkey  and  the  parrot,  the 
town  rat  and  the  country  rat.  In  all  these,  and  a  thousand 
like  expressions,  we  do  not  find  it  necessary  to  relate  the  story 
to  which  reference  is  made.  Everybody  knows  it.  It  is  part 
of  our  very  being. 

The  illusions  of  history  are  almost  infinite  in  number,  and 
illusory  etymologies  are  very  apt  to  lead  the  unwary  scholar 
astray.  The  critical  student  of  history  will  be  amazed  at  the 
number  of  errors  which  are  shown  to  have  crept  into  almost 
every  historical  work  of  the  past ;  and  he  will  appreciate  the 
magnitude  of  the  task  presented  to  one  who  would  undertake 
now  to  write  a  history — to  sift  out  and  eliminate  from  his 
facts  all  error,  leaving  only  the  exact  truth,  in  accordance 


NATURE  AMD  VALUE  OF  FOLK-LOBE.      13 

with  the  rigid  requirements  of  modern  historical  criticism. 
From  all  this  labor,  perplexity,  and  conscientious  care  the  stu- 
dent of  folk-lore,  who  loves  folk-lore  for  its  own  sake,  is  free. 
It  matters  not  at  all  whether  the  head  of  Horace  Greeley  did 
or  did  not  shoot  up  through  the  top  of  Hank  Monk's  coach ; 
whether  Peter  Cartwright  really  did  or  did  not  blaze  his 
way  with  a  hatchet  through  the  labyrinth  of  corridors  in  a 
New  York  hotel ;  whether  Zachary  Taylor,  imperturbable  in 
the  midst  of  the  hottest  fire,  did  or  did  not  drawl  out,  "  A 
1-i-t-t-l-e  more  grape,  Captain  Bragg."  In  either  case,  the 
story  is  equally  good.  If  it  be  characteristic  of  the  person 
to  whom  it  is  applied,  it  will  answer  every  purpose  of  folk- 
lore. 

Witty  sayings  are  often  remembered  when  their  authors 
are  forgotten  or  are  confounded  with  other  persons.  There 
is  a  vast  amount  of  sparkling  thought  and  apt  expression 
which  is  firmly  held  in  the  memory  of  the  people,  but  for 
which  no  legitimate  sponsor  appears.  There  is  a  very  com- 
mon tendency,  however,  to  ascribe  a  smart  saying,  whether 
correctly  or  not,  to  some  noted  individual ;  and  thus  a  few 
men  whose  reputation  for  smartness  is  once  established  re- 
ceive credit  for  much  which  did  not  originate  with  them.  In 
Europe  it  has  been  (unconsciously,  perhaps)  the  custom  to 
ascribe  this  flotsam  and  jetsam  of  witty  and  pithy  sayings  to 
Talleyrand — just  as  it  has  been  the  tendency  in  this  country 
to  ascribe  unlabeled  specimens  of  wit  and  humor  to  Henry 
Ward  Beechcr  or  to  Abraham  Lincoln.  Doubtless  whole 
volumes  of  the  witty  sayings  of  these  men— which  they  never 
.;,j(] — might  be  compiled.  It'does  not  matter  at  all  who 
reallv  said  them,  if  they  sound  like  Talleyrand  or  Beecher 
or  Lincoln,  if  they  are  characteristic  and  fit  the  case,  that  is 
all  that  is  necessary  for  the  requirements  of  folk-lore. 

As  a  single  initial  letter  may  represeni  an  entire  word,  so 
a  single  word  may  have  the  meaning  of  a  whole  lifetime  of 
human  endeavor,  or  a  whole  comedy  or  tragedy  of  human 
experience.     Words  are  wonderful  things;  they  carry  with 


14     NATURE  AMD  VALUE  OF  FOLK-LORE. 

them  the  story  of  our  race.  They  are  sacred  things ;  they 
hold  all  that  can  be  expressed  of  human  happiness  and  mis- 
ery, hope  and  despair. 

The  universality  of  our  folk-lore  is  marvelous.  One  of 
our  lightly  spoken  proverbs  may  date  back  through  thou- 
sands of  years  to  ^sop ;  the  next  one  uttered  may  go  back 
only  to  Benjamin  Franklin.1  One  comes  from  King  Solo- 
mon or  the  Emperor  Jamshyd,  another  from  a  wretched 
slave.  Our  common  expressions  of  worldly  wisdom  have 
been  gleaned  from  pleasant  home  lands,  from  the  burning 
desert,  and  from  the  arctic  snows ;  from  the  days  of  Job  to 
our  own  time ;  from  city  and  country,  and  from  all  ranks 
and  conditions  of  men. 

The  study  of  folk-lore  is  delightful  to  the  philosophic 
mind  and  to  the  generous  heart.  It  enlarges  the  view  of 
human  life,  and  brings  the  individual  into  closer  union  with 
his  fellows.  It  teaches  the  fatherhood  of  God  and  the  broth- 
erhood of  man. 

1  Franklin  is  said  to  have  taught  more  of  practical  wisdom  than  any  other 
uninspired  man.  His  apt  and  homely  sayings  have  created  a  world  of  folk- 
lore in  themselves. 


AMERICAN   FOLK-LORE. 

The  mythology  of  ancient  America  is  meager,  and  is  gen- 
erally of  little  importance  in  its  relation  to  literature  and 
art,  though  it  possesses  considerable  interest  in  connection 
with  geographical  names  and  local  traditions,  especially  in 
North  America. 

The  red  men  of  the  New  World  believed  generally  in  the 
existence  of  a  Great  Spirit,1  the  Master  of  Life.  They  cher- 
ished a  belief  in  the  immortality  of  the  soul,  and  in  a  barba- 
rous heaven.  Their  simple  faith  is  happily  expressed  in  the 
well-known  and  frequently  quoted  lines  : 

Lo,  the  poor  Indian,  whose  untutored  mind 

Sees  God  in  clouds  or  hears  him  in  the  wind  ; 

His  soul  proud  Science  never  taught  to  stray 

Far  as  the  solar  walk,  or  Milky  Way; 

Yet  simple  Nature  to  his  hope  has  given, 

Behind  the  cloud-topped  hill,  an  tumbler  heaven ; 

Some  safer  world,  in  depth  of  wood  embraced, 

Some  happier  island  in  the  watery  waste, 

Where  slaves  once  more  their  native  land  behold, 

No  fiends  torment,  no  Christians  thirst  for  gold. 

To  be,  contents  his  natural  desire; 

He  asks  no  angel's  wing,  no  seraph's  fire  ; 

But  thinks,  admitted  to  that  equal  sky, 

His  faithful  dog  shall  bear  him  company. 

—  Pope's  "  Essay  on  Man." 

i  It  is  a  remarkable  fact  thai  manj .  if  nol  most,  ot  the  rude  tribes  inhabit- 
ing  the  vast  American  continent,  however  disfigured  their  creeds  may  have 
been  in  other  respects  by  childish  superstition,  had  attained  to  the  sublime 
conception  of  one  Greal  Spirit,  the  <  Ireator  of  the  universe,  who,  immaterial  in 
bis  own  nature,  was  not  to  be  bj  an  attempt  al  visible  representa- 
tion, and  who, pervading  all  spi .was  not  to  be  circumscribed  within  the 


16  AMERICAN  FOLK-LORE. 

Gitche  Manito  (or  Manitou)  is  the  most  common 
Indian  designation  for  the  Great  Spirit,  who  is  thus  char- 
acterized in  contradistinction  to  the  inferior  manitos,  or  spir- 
its. (Manitoba,  the  name  of  a  province  in  the  Dominion  of 
Canada,  means  "  God  speaks  ".) 

Gitche  Manito,  the  mighty, 
He  the  Master  of  Life,  descending, 
On  the  red  crags  of  the  quarry 
Stood  erect,  and  called  the  nations, 
Called  the  tribes  of  men  together. 
•  — Longfellow's  "  Song  of  Hiawatfia." 

Mitche  Manito  was  a  subordinate  and  malignant  spirit, 
who  caused  the  drought,  the  forest  fires,  etc. 

And  louder  lamentations  heard  we  rise : 
As  when  the  evil  Manitou,  that  dries 
Th'  Ohio  woods,  consumes  them  in  his  ire. 

— Campbell's  "  Gertrude  of  Wyoming.'''' 

Wetuo  Manitos  were  inferior  gods  of  the  wigwam. 

Such  a  forest  devil  to  run  by  his  side, — 
Such  a  Wetuomanit  as  thou  wouldst  make. 

—  Whittier's  "Hogg  Megone" 

Hiawatha,  in  a  widespread  tradition,  was  a  person  of 
miraculous  birth  and  translation,  who  was  sent  by  Gitche 
Manito  to  clear  the  forests  and  rivers,  and  especially  to  in- 
culcate in  the  stern  hearts  of  warlike  men  a  love  for  peace 
and  for  the  gentler  virtues.  Longfellow's  exquisite  descrip- 
tion of  his  departure  from  the  world  has  been  applied  to  the 
leave-taking  of  the  poet  himself  : 

Thus  departed  Hiawatha, 
Hiawatha  the  Beloved, 
In  the  glory  of  the  sunset, 

walls  of  a  temple.  Yet  these  elevated  ideas,  bo  far  beyond  the  ordinary  range 
of  the  untutored  intellect,  do  not  seem  to  have  led  to  the  practical  consequences 
that  might  have  been  expected  ;  and  few  of  the  American  nations  have  shown 
much  solicitude  for  the  maintenance  of  a  religious  worship,  or  found  in  their 
faith  a  powerful  spring  of  action.—  William  H.  Prescott. 


AMERICAN  FOLK-LORE.  17 

In  the  purple  mists  of  evening, 
To  the  region  of  the  home-wind, 
Of  the  Northwest  wind,  Keewaydin, 
To  the  Islands  of  the  Blessed, 
To  the  kingdom  of  Ponemah, 
To  the  land  of  the  Hereafter. 

Among  the  other  appellations  of  the  hero  are  Miehabou, 
Manabozo,  Chiabo,  and  Tarenyawagon. 

Chibiabos,  a  musician,  was  one  of  Hiawatha's  friends. 

Most  beloved  by  Hiawatha 
Was  the  gentle  Chibiabos, 
He  the  best  of  all  musicians, 
He  the  sweetest  of  all  singers. 
Beautiful  and  childlike  was  he. 
Brave  as  man  is,  soft  as  woman, 
Pliant  as  a  wand  of  willow, 
Stately  as  a  deer  with  antlers. 

— Longfellow's  "  Song  of  Hiaivafha." 

Kwasixd,  a  hero   of  marvelous   strength,  was   another 

friend  of  Hiawatha. 

"  Lazy  Kwasind  !  "  said  the  young  men, 
As  they  sported  in  the  meadow! 
"  Why  stand  idly  looking  at  us. 
Leaning  on  the  rock  behind  j 
Come  ami  wrestle  with  the  oth 
Let  u-  pitch  the  quoit  together!" 
Lazy  Kwasind  made  no  an 
To  their  challenge  made  no  answer, 
Only  ro<e,  ami.  slowly  turning, 
Seized  tin-  huge  rock  in  his  fingers, 
Ton-  it  from  it<  deep  foundation. 
Poised  it  in  the  air  a  moment, 
Pitched  it  sheer  into  tin'  river. 
Sheer  into  the  swift  Pauwating, 
Where  it  still  i-  seen  in  Summer. 

—Longfellow's  "  Song  of  Hiawatha." 

I.uroo  was  a  proverbial  boaster  and  Btory-teller. 

Very  boastful  was  Iagoo  ; 
Never  heard  he  an  adventure 

FOI.K-I.OKE    2 


18  AMERICAN  FOLK-LORE. 

But  himself  had  met  a  greater  ; 

Never  any  deed  of  daring 

But  himself  had  done  a  bolder  ; 

Never  any  marvelous  story 

But  himself  could  tell  a  stranger. 

— Long fellow 's  "  Song  of  Hiawatha. ." 

Minnehaha,  the  bride  of  Hiawatha,  was  the  daughter  of 
an  old  arrow-maker  in  the  country  of  the  Dacotahs  (or  Sioux), 
who  resided  near  the  cascade  which  bears  her  name.  The 
account  of  her  wooing  and  death  are  favorite  passages  in  the 
Song  of  Hiawatha. 

Wenonah,  the  mother  of  Hiawatha,  was  a  daughter  of 
Nokomis,  who  fell  from  the  moon.  Wenonah  was  betrayed 
by  Mudjekeewis,  the  Westwind. 

Oweenee  was  the  heroine  of  a  weird  story  related  by 
Iagoo.     She  was  wedded  in  youth  to 

Old  Osseo,  poor  and  ugly, 

Broken  with  age  and  weak  with  coughing, 

to  whom  she  proved  ever  faithful.  The  aged  husband  be- 
came miraculously  transformed  into  a  handsome  youth,  while 
Oweenee  became 

Wasted,  wrinkled,  old,  and  ugly, 

but  was  restored  to  her  youth  and  beauty,  while  her  unduti- 
ful  sisters  and  their  husbands  were  transformed  into  birds. 

The  Kingdom  of  Ponemah  was  the  "  Land  of  the  Here- 
after," the  "  Happy  Hunting  Ground  "  of  the  brave  and  true. 

0  mighty  Sowanna ! l 

Thy  gateways  unfold, 
From  thy  wigwam  of  sunset 
Lift  curtains  of  gold  ! 
Take  home  the  poor  Spirit  whose  journey  is  o'er ; 
Mat  wonck  Jcunna-monee—We  see  her  no  more ! 

—  Whittier's  "Bridal  of  Permacook." 

i  Great  Spirit. 


AMERICAN  FOLK-LORE.  19 

Maqtton  is  the  hero  of  an  Indian  legend  which  relates 
the  abduction  of  a  young  bride  and  the  devoted  quest  through 
which  she  was  restored  to  her  lover.  It  is  the  subject  of  a 
short  poem  by  Bryant. 

St.  Tammany  is  the  name  by  which  a  noted  Indian  chief 
of  the  Delaware  tribe  is  remembered.  Tammany,  or  Tam- 
menund,  is  believed  to  have  lived  in  the  middle  of  the  seven- 
teenth century.  Removing  when  young  from  the  seacoast  to 
the  valley  of  the  Ohio,  he  became  eminent  as  a  sachem,  or 
chief.  His  rule  was  beneficent.  He  was  a  firm  friend  of  the 
Whites,  and  he  sought  in  every  way  to  cultivate  among  his  peo- 
ple the  arts  of  peace.  When  and  in  what  manner  he  acquired 
the  title  of  saint  does  not  appear.  It  was  doubtless  a  tribute 
to  his  piety  and  worth.  The  first  day  of  May  is  sometimes 
known  as  St.  Tammany's  day.  A  parish  in  Louisiana  and  a 
political  society  in  Xew  York  are  named  in  his  honor. 

Among  the  Aztecs  of  Mexico  there  was  a  well-developed 
system  of  idolatrous  worship,  with  a  priesthood  and  sacrificial 
rites.  At  the  .same  time  there  seems  to  have  been,  among 
the  higher  classes  at  least,  a  recognition  of  a  Supreme  Deity, 
Tloquenalmaque,  or  Ipaluemoan  ("He  by  whom  we  live"), 
who  was  not  represented  by  images  or  propitiated  with  sacri- 
fices other  than  offerings  of  incense  and  flowers. 

There  were  more  than  a  dozen  gods  (teotls)  prominent 
in  the  Aztec  system.  Among  these  were  Euitzilopochtli, 
the  god  of  war;  Tezcatlipoca,  the  god  of  justice;  Quet- 
zalcoatl,  the  god  of  the  air ;  Tonatiub  and  Metztli,  the 
sun  and  moon;  Centeotl,  the  goddess  of  the  earth;  Tla- 

ZOLTEOTL,  the  goddess  Of  pleasure 

Euitzilopochtli  was  the  real  head  of  the  Aztec  Pantheon. 
The  great  temple,  or  group  of  temples  and  altars,  in  the 
ancient  city  of  Mexico  was  built  in  his  honor,  and  human 
sacrifices  were  offered  to  him. 

The  great  pyramid  at  Cholula  was  surmounted  by  a  tem- 
ple  of    Uiirfxaleoatl.      Seats    wen-    piu\i<lcd    in    Mexico  for 


20  AMERICAN  FOLK-LORE. 

Tezcatlipoca,  who  was,  in  popular  belief,  the  highest  of  the 
image-gods. 

The  Mexican  «al tars  were  built  upon  "  teocallis,"  or  trun- 
cated pyramids,  some  of  which  were  of  immense  proportions. 

I  hear  the  Florentine,  who  from  his  palace 
Wheels  out  his  battle-bell  with  dreadful  din, 

And  Aztec  priests  upon  their  teocallis 
Beat  the  wild  war-drums  made  of  serpent's  skin. 

— Longfellow's  "Armory  at  Springfield." 

The  ancient  Peruvians  worshiped  the  heavenly  bodies 
and  the  ocean,  but  generally  without  the  bloody  rites  of  the 
Aztecs. 

NOTES   OF    LITERATURE    RELATING    TO   AMERICAN    FOLK-LORE. 

The  most  noted  poem  based  upon  the  myths  of  the  American  Indians 
is  The  Song  of  Hiawatha,  by  Henry  Wadsworth  Longfellow,  which  was 
designed  to  be  an  American  Edda,  a  repository  for  the  more  pleasing 
and  curious  legends  found  among  the  various  tribes.  The  scene  of 
action  is  the  south  shore  of  Lake  Superior.  This  poem  was  published 
in  1855,  and  was  remarkable  for  the  peculiarity  of  its  meter,  as  well  as 
for  the  novelty  and  charm  of  its  subject. 

Among  the  minor  productions  of  the  German  poet  Schiller  is  one 
entitled  Nadoivessiers  Totenslied,  a  dirge  to  a  chieftain  who  was  buried 
near  Carver's  Cave,  on  the  site  of  St.  Paul,  Minn.,  considerably  more 
than  a  century  ago.  The  poem  has  been  translated  by  more  than  one 
British  author.  It  expresses  the  Indian's  faith  in  the  Great  Spirit  and 
in  a  future  life. 

Gertrude  of  Wyoming,  by  the  British  poet  Thomas  Campbell,  and 
Mogg  Megone  and  The  Bridal  of  Pennacook,  by  John  Greenleaf  Whit- 
tier,  are  among  the  earlier  poems  of  the  present  century  relating  to  the 
pioneer  days  of  American  settlements,  and  portray  scenes  of  Indian  life, 
though  their  allusions  to  the  mythology  of  the  aborigines  are  not  nu- 
merous. (Evidently  Campbell  was  in  error  in  placing  the  accent  of 
Wyoming  upon  the  first  syllable.) 

The  witchery  of  soft  moonlight  on  the  Hudson  engaged  the  teeming 
fancies  of  the  American  poet  Joseph  Rodman  Drake  to  people  the 
romantic  banks  of  that  beautiful  river  with  elfin  spirits  of  the  night — 
brought  thither  from  the  fairyland  of  Old  World  folk-lore.  His  poem 
The  Culprit  Fay  enjoyed  unbounded  popularity  in  the  earlier  years  of 


AN  INDIAN  STOUT.  21 

this  century,  and  has  been  deemed  comparable  only  to  Milton's  Comus. 
It  is  still  unapproached  by  any  other  fairy  poem  of  the  century  in  the 
almost  human  interest  which  its  characters,  possess,  and  in  the  delicacy 
of  its  description. 

Washington  Irving  found  in  the  folk-lore  of  colonial  days  in  the 
Catskills  the  materials  for  his  Legend  of  Sleepy  Hollow  and  Rip  Van 
Winkle — prose  idyls,  which  are  written  in  a  style  singularly  well  adapt- 
ed to  the  delineation  of  the  legendary  and  the  picturesque. 

Interesting  accounts  of  the  religions  of  the  Aztecs  and  the  ancient 
Peruvians  are  to  be  found  in  William  H.  Prescott's  Conquest  of  Mexico 
and  Conquest  of  Peru.  A  novel  entitled  The  Fair  God,  by  General 
Lew  Wallace,  relates  the  overthrow  of  Montezuma,  the  Aztec  emperor, 
by  the  Spanish  invader  Cortes,  and  presents  a  graphic  picture  of  the 
days  of  Mexican  idolatry.  The  Story  of  Mexico,  a  recent  work  by  Susan 
Hale,  is  a  valuable  contribution  to  Spanish-American  history. 


AN    INDIAN    STORY. 
(The  Legend  of  Maquon.) 

BY    WILLIAM   CULLEN    BRYANT. 

"I  know  where  the  timid  fawn  abides 

In  the  depths  of  the  shaded  dell, 
Where  the  leaves  are  broad  and  the  thicket  hides, 
With  its  many  stems  and  its  tangled  sides, 

From  the  eye  of  the  hunter  well. 

"  I  know  where  the  young  May  violet  grows, 

In  its  lone  and  lowly  nook, 
On  the  mossy  hank,  where  the  larch-tree  throws 
Its  broad  dark  boughs,  in  solemn  repose, 

Far  over  the  silent  brook. 

"  And  that  timid  fawn  starts  not  with  fear 

When  I  steal  to  her  secret  bower, 
A  in  I  that,  young  May  violet  to  me  is  dear, 
And  I  visit  the  silent  streamlet  near, 

To  look  on  the  lovely  flower." 


22  AMEBIC  AM  FOLK-LOBE. 

Thus  Maquon  sings  as  he  lightly  walks 
To  the  hunting-ground  on  the  hills ; 
'Tis  a  song  of  his  maid  of  the  woods  and  rocks, 
With  her  bright  black  eyes  and  long  black  locks, 
And  voice  like  the  music  of  rills. 

He  goes  to  the  chase — but  evil  eyes 

Are  at  watch  in  the  thicker  shades ; 
For  she  was  lovely  that  smiled  on  his  sighs, 
And  he  bore,  from  a  hundred  lovers,  his  prize, 

The  flower  of  the  forest  maids. 

The  boughs  in  the  morning  Avind  are  stirred, 

And  the  woods  their  song  renew, 
With  the  early  carol  of  many  a  bird, 
And  the  quickened  tune  of  the  streamlet  heard 

Where  the  hazels  trickle  with  dew. 

And  Maquon  has  promised  his  dark-haired  maid, 

Ere  eve  shall  redden  the  sky, 
A  good  red  deer  from  the  forest  shade, 
That  bounds  with  the  herd  through  grove  and  glade, 

At  her  cabin  door  shall  lie. 

The  hollow  woods,  in  the  setting  sun, 

Eing  shrill  with  the  fire-bird's  lay ; 
And  Maquon 's  sylvan  labors  are  done, 
And  his  shafts  are  spent,  but  the  spoil  they  won 

He  bears  on  his  homeward  way. 

He  stops  near  his  bower — his  eye  perceives 

Strange  traces  along  the  ground  ; 
At  once  to  the  earth  his  burden  he  heaves, 
And  breaks  through  the  veil  of  boughs  and  leaves, 

And  gains  its  door  with  a  bound. 

But  the  vines  are  torn  on  its  walls  that  leant, 
And  all  from  the  young  shrubs  there, 


AN  IN D I  AM  STORY.  23 

By  struggling  hands  have  the  leaves  been  rent, 
And  there  hangs,  on  the  sassafras  broken  and  bent, 
One  tress  of  the  well-known  hair. 

But  where  is  she  who  at  this  cairn  hour 

Ever  watched  his  coming  to  see  ? 
She  is  not  at  the  door,  nor  yet  in  the  bower. 
He  calls — but  he  only  hears  on  the  flower 

The  hum  of  the  laden  bee. 

It  is  not  a  time  for  idle  grief, 

Nor  a  time  for  tears  to  flow  ; 
The  horror  that  freezes  his  limbs  is  brief — 
He  grasps  his  war-axe  and  bow,  and  a  sheaf 

Of  darts  made  sharp  for  the  foe. 

And  he  looks  for  the  print  of  the  ruffian's  feet, 

Where  he  bore  the  maiden  away ; 
And  he  darts  on  the  fatal  path  more  fleet 
Than  the  blast  that  hurries  the  vapor  and  sleet 

On  the  wild  November  day. 

'Twas  early  summer  when  Maquon's  bride 

Was  stolen  away  from  his  door; 
But  at  length  the  maples  in  crimson  are  dyed, 
And  the  grape  is  black  on  the  cabin  side — 

And  she  smiles  at  his  hearth  once  more. 

But  far  in  a  pine-grove,  dark  and  cold, 

Where  the  yellow  leaf  falls  not. 

Nor  the  autumn  shines  in  scarlet  and  gold, 
There  lies  a  hillock  of  fresh,  dark  mold, 
In  the  deepest  gloom  of  the  spot. 

And  the  Indian  girls  that  pass  that  way 

Point  out  the  ravisher's  grave; 
"And  how  soon  to  the  bower  she  loved,"  they  say, 
"  Beturned  the  maid  that  was  borne  away 

From  Maquon,  the  fond  and  the  brave." 


24  AMERICAN  FOLK-LORE. 


THE  DEATH   LAM£NT  OF  THE  NADOWESSIE  CHIEFTAIN, 

BY   JOHANN   CHRISTOPH   FRIEDRICH   VON   SCHILLER. 
(TRANSLATED   BY   EDGAR   ALFRED   BOWRING.) 

See,  he  sitteth  on  his  mat, 

Sitteth  there  upright, 
With  the  grace  with  which  he  sat 

While  he  saw  the  light. 

Where  is  now  the  sturdy  gripe, 

Where  the  breath  sedate, 
That  so  lately  whifE'd  the  pipe 

Toward  the  Spirit  Great  ? 

Where  the  bright  and  falcon  eye, 

That  the  reindeer's  tread 
On  the  waving  grass  could  spy, 

Thick  with  dewdrops  spread  ? 

Where  the  limbs  that  used  to  dart 

Swifter  through  the  snow 
Than  the  twenty-member'd  hart, 

Than  the  mountain  roe  ? 

Where  the  arm  that  sturdily 

Bent  the  deadly  bow  ? 
See,  its  life  hath  fleeted  by ; 

See,  it  hangeth  low  ! 

Farewell  gifts,  then,  hither  bring, 

Sound  the  death-note  sad  ! 
Bury  him  with  everything 

That  can  make  him  glad. 

'Neath  his  head  the  hatchet  hide, 

That  he  boldly  swung ; 
And  the  bear's-fat  haunch  beside, 

For  the  road  is  long ; 


COMANCHE  BOY. 

And  the  knife,  well  sharpened, 
That,  with  slashes  three, 

Scalp  and  skin  from  foeman's  head 
Tore  off  skillfully; 

And,  to  paint  his  body,  place 

Dyes  within  his  hand. 
Let  him  shine  with  ruddy  grace 

In  the  Spirit  Land. 


COMANCHE    BOY. 

BY   FANNIE   A.   D.   DABDEN. 

Sweet  child  of  the  forest  and  prairie, 
Say,  where  have  thy  dusky  tribe  gone? 

Have  they  silently  passed  as  the  shadows 
That  flit  'neath  the  cloud-veiled  moon  ? 

Have  they  folded  their  tents  'neath  the  greenwood- 
Have  they  gone  to  some  far  hunting-ground, 

Where  the  buffalo  roameth  at  pleasure, 
And  the  fleet-footed  dun  deer  is  found? 

Or  on  the  red  trail  of  the  war-path 

Do  thy  stem  chieftains  seek  for  the  foe? 

And  the  songs  of  their  gay  plumed  warriors, 
Are  they  breathing  out  vengeance  and  woe  ? 

They  are  gone  to  the  land  of  the  West  Wind  ; 

In  the  mountain's  rock-caverns  a  home 
They  have  found,  where  the  voice  of  the  torrent 

Roars  loud  from  its  white  bed  of  foam. 

As  the  lingering  rays  of  the  sunset 
O'er  woodland  and  prairie  are  thrown, 

As  the  soft,  hazy  Indian  summer 

Is  a  dream  of  the  summer  that's  gone  :— 


25 


26  AMERICAN  FOLK-LOBE. 

So  the  day  of  their  glory  is  over, 
And  out  on  the  desolate  waste 

The  far-scattered  remnants  yet  hover, 
Like  shades  of  the  long-vanished  past. 


THE    CULPRIT    FAY. 

BY   JOSEPH   RODMAN   DKAKE. 


'Tis  the  middle  watch  of  a  summer's  night — 

The  earth  is  dark,  but  the  heavens  are  bright ; 

Naught  is  seen  in  the  vault  on  high 

But  the  moon,  and  the  stars,  and  the  cloudless  sky, 

And  the  flood  which  rolls  its  milky  hue, 

A  river  of  light  on  the  welkin  blue. 

The  moon  looks  down  on  old  Cronest, 

She  mellows  the  shades  on  his  shaggy  breast, 

And  seems  his  huge  gray  form  to  throw 

In  a  silver  cone  on  the  wave  below ; 

His  sides  are  broken  by  spots  of  shade, 

By  the  walnut  bough  and  the  cedar  made, 

And  through  their  clustering  branches  dark 

Glimmers  and  dies  the  firefly's  spark — 

Like  starry  twinkles  that  momently  break 

Through  the  rifts  of  the  gathering  tempest's  rack. 

ii. 
The  stars  are  on  the  moving  stream, 

And  fling,  as  its  ripples  gently  flow, 
A  burnished  length  of  wavy  beam 

In  an  eel -like  spiral  line  below ; 
The  winds  are  whist,  and  the  owl  is  still, 

The  bat  in  the  shelvy  rock  is  hid  ; 
And  naught  is  heard  on  the  lonely  hill 


THE  CULPRIT  FAY.  27 

But  the  cricket's  chirp,  and  the  answer  shrill 

Of  the  gauze-winged  katydid  ; 
And  the  plaint  of  the  wailing  whippoorwill, 
Who  moans  unseen,  and  ceaseless  sings, 

Ever  a  note  of  wail  and  woe, 
Till  morning  spreads  her  rosy  wings, 

And  earth  and  sky  in  her  glances  glow. 

in. 

"lis  the  hour  of  fairy  ban  and  spell ; 
The  wood-tick  has  kept  the  minutes  well ; 
He  has  counted  them  all  with  click  and  stroke 
Deep  in  the  heart  of  the  mountain-oak, 
And  he  has  awakened  the  sentry  elve 

Who  sleeps  with  him  in  the  haunted  tree, 
To  bid  him  riug  the  hour  of  twelve, 

And  call  the  Fays  to  their  revelry ; 
Twelve  small  strokes  on  his  tinkling  bell — 
('Twas  made  of  the  white  snail's  pearly  shell) ; 
"  Midnight  comes,  and  all  is  well ! 
Hither,  hither,  wing  your  way! 
'Tis  the  dawn  of  the  fairy-day." 

IV. 

They  come  from  beds  of  lichen  green, 
They  creep  from  the  mullen's  velvet  screen ; 
Some  on  the  backs  of  beetles  fly 

From  the  silver  tops  of  moon-touched  trees, 
Where  they  swung  in  their  cobweb  hammocks  high, 

And  rocked  about  in  the  evening  breeze; 
Some  from  the  humbird's  downy  nest— 

They  had  driven  him  out  by  elfin  [lower, 
And,  pillowed  on  plumes  of  his  rainhow  breast, 

IIa.d  slumbered  there  till  the  charmed  hour; 
Some  had  lain  in  the  scoop  of  the  rock, 

With  glittering  ising-stars  iidaid  ; 


28  AMERICAN  FOLK-LOBE. 

And  some  had  opened  the  four-o'clock, 
And  stole  within  its  purple  shade. 

And  now  they  throng  the  moonlight  glade, 
Above — below — on  every  side, 

Their  little  minim  forms  arrayed 
In  the  tricksy  pomp  of  fairy  pride  ! 

v. 
They  come  not  now  to  print  the  lea, 
In  freak  and  dance  around  the  tree, 
Or  at  the  mushroom  board  to  sup, 
And  drink  the  dew  from  the  buttercup ; — 
A  scene  of  sorrow  awaits  them  now, 
For  an  Ouphe  has  broken  his  vestal  vow ; 
He  has  loved  an  earthly  maid, 
And  left  for  her  his  woodland  shade ; 
He  has  lain  upon  her  lip  of  dew, 
And  sunned  him  in  her  eye  of  blue, 
Fanned  her  cheek  with  his  wing  of  air, 
Played  in  the  ringlets  of  her  hair, 
And,  nestling  on  her  snowy  breast, 
Forgot  the  lily-king's  behest. 
For  this  the  shadowy  tribes  of  air 

To  the  elfin  court  must  haste  away ; — 
And  now  they  stand  expectant  there, 

To  hear  the  doom  of  the  culprit  Fay. 

VI. 

The  throne  was  reared  upon  the  grass, 
Of  spice-wood  and  of  sassafras  ; 
On  pillars  of  mottled  tortoise-shell 

Hung  the  burnished  canopy — 
And  over  it  gorgeous  curtains  fell 

Of  the  tulip's  crimson  drapery. 
The  monarch  sat  on  his  judgment-seat, 

On  his  brow  the  crown  imperial  shone ; 


THE  CULPRIT  FAY.  29 

The  prisoner  Fay  was  at  his  feet, 

And  his  peers  were  ranged  around  the  throne ; 
He  waved  his  scepter  in  the  air, 

He  looked  around  and  calmly  spoke ; 
His  brow  was  grave  and  his  eye  severe, 

But  his  voice  in  a  softened  accent  broke  : 

VII. 

"  Fairy  !  Fairy  !  list  and  mark  : 

Thou  hast  broke  thine  elfin  chain  ; 
Thy  flame-wood  lamp  is  quenched  and  dark, 

And  thy  wings  are  dyed  with  a  deadly  stain — 
Thou  hast  sullied  thine  elfin  purity 

In  the  glance  of  a  mortal  maiden's  eye, 
Thou  hast  scorned  our  dread  decree, 

And  thou  shouldst  pay  the  forfeit  high. 
But  well  I  know  her  sinless  mind 

Is  pure  as  the  angel  forms  above, 
Gentle  and  meek,  and  chaste  and  kind, 

Such  as  a  spirit  well  might  love ; 
Fairy  !  had  she  spot  or  taint, 
Bitter  had  been  thy  punishment. 

Now  list,  and  mark  our  mild  decree — 
Fairy,  this  your  doom  must  be  : 

v  I  1 1 . 
"  Thou  shalt  seek  the  beach  of  sand 
Where  the  water  bound-  the  elfin  hind  ; 
Thou  shalt  watch  the  oozy  brine 
Till  the  sturgeon  leaps  in  the  bright  moonshine; 
Then  dart  the  glistening  arch  helow, 
And  catch  a  drop  from  his  silver  hew. 
The  water-sprit es  will  wield  their  arms 

And  dash  around,  with  roar  and  rave, 
And  vain  are  the  woodland  spirits'  charms, 

They  arc  the  imps  that  rule  the  wave. 


30  AMERICAN  FOLK-LORE. 

Yet  trust  thee  in  thy  single  might : 

If  thy  heart  be  pure  and  thy  spirit  right, 

Thou  shalt  win  the  warlock  fight. 

IX. 

"  If  the  spray-bead  gem  be  won, 

The  stain  of  thy  wing  is  washed  away : 

But  another  errand  must  be  done 
Ere  thy  crime  be  lost  for  aye ; 

Thy  flame- wood  lamp  is  quenched  and  dark, 

Thou  must  reillume  its  spark. 

Mount  thy  steed  and  spur  him  high 

To  the  heavens'  blue  canopy ; 

And  when  thou  seest  a  shooting-star, 

Follow  it  fast,  and  follow  it  far — 

The  last  faint  spark  of  its  burning  train 

Shall  light  the  elfin  lamp  again. 

Thou  hast  heard  our  sentence,  Fay ; 

Hence  !  to  the  water-side,  away ! " 


XXV. 

He  put  his  acorn  helmet  on ; 

It  was  plumed  of  the  silk  of  the  thistle-down ; 

The  corslet  plate  that  guarded  his  breast 

Was  once  the  wild  bee's  golden  vest ; 

His  cloak,  of  a  thousand  mingled  dyes, 

Was  formed  of  the  wings  of  butterflies ; 

His  shield  was  the  shell  of  a  lady-bug  queen, 

Studs  of  gold  on  a  ground  of  green ; 

And  the  quivering  lance  which  he  brandished  bright, 

Was  the  sting  of  a  wasp  he  had  slain  in  fight. 

Swift  he  bestrode  his  fire-fly  steed  ; 

He  bared  his  blade  of  the  bent  grass  blue ; 
He  drove  his  spurs  of  the  cockle-seed, 

And  away  like  a  glance  of  thought  he  flew, 


THE  CULPRIT  FAY.  31 

To  skim  the  heavens  and  follow  far 
The  fiery  trail  of  the  rocket-star. 

XXVI. 

The  moth-fly,  as  he  shot  in  air, 

Crept  under  the  leaf  and  hid  her  there ; 

The  katydid  forgot  its  lay, 

The  prowling  gnat  fled  fast  away, 

The  fell  mosquito  checked  his  drone, 

And  folded  his  wings  till  the  Fay  was  gone, 

And  the  wily  beetle  dropped  his  head, 

And  fell  on  the  ground  as  if  he  were  dead ; 

They  crouched  them  close  in  the  darksome  shade, 

They  quaked  all  o'er  with  awe  and  fear, 
For  they  had  felt  the  blue-bent  blade, 

And  writhed  at  the  prick  of  the  elfin  spear ; 
Many  a  time,  on  a  summer's  night, 
When  the  sky  was  clear  and  the  moon  was  bright, 
They  had  been  roused  from  the  haunted  ground 
By  the  yelp  and  bay  of  the  fairy  hound ; 
They  had  heard  the  tiny  bugle-horn, 

They  had  heard  the  twang  of  the  maize-silk  string, 
When  the  vine-twig  bows  were  tightly  drawn, 
And  the  needle-shaft  through  air  was  borne, 

Feathered  with  down  of  the  hum-bird's  wing. 
And  now  they  deemed  the  courier  Ouphe, 

Sunie  hunter-sprite  of  the  elfin  ground ; 
And  they  watched  till  they  saw  him  mount  the  roof 

That  canopies  the  world  around  ; 
Then  glad  they  left  their  covert  lair, 
And  freaked  about  in  the  midnight  air. 

XXVII. 

Up  to  the  vaulted  firmament 
His  path  the  firefly  rourser  bent, 


32  AMERICAN  FOLK-LORE. 

And  at  every  gallop  on  the  wind 

He  flung  a  glittering  spark  behind  ; 

He  flies  like  a  feather  in  the  blast 

Till  the  first  light  cloud  in  heaven  is  past. 

But  the  shapes  of  air  have  begun  their  work, 

And  a  drizzly  mist  is  round  him  cast, 
He  cannot  see  through  the  mantle  murk, 

He  shivers  with  cold,  but  he  urges  fast ; 
Through  storm  and  darkness,  sleet  and  shade, 

He  lashes  his  steed  and  spurs  amain, 

For  shadowy  hands  have  twitched  the  rein, 
And  flame-shot  tongues  around  him  played, 
And  near  him  many  a  fiendish  eye 
Glared  with  a  fell  malignity, 
And  yells  of  rage,  and  shrieks  of  fear, 
Came  screaming  on  his  startled  ear. 

XXVIII. 

His  wings  are  wet  around  his  breast, 
The  plume  hangs  dripping  from  his  crest, 
His  eyes  are  blurred  by  the  lightning's  glare, 
And  his  ears  are  stunned  with  the  thunder's  blare, 
But  he  gave  a  shout,  and  his  blade  he  drew, 

He  thrust  before  and  he  struck  behiud, 
Till  he  pierced  their  cloudy  bodies  through, 

And  gashed  their  shadowy  limbs  of  wind ; 
Howling  the  misty  specters  flew, 

They  rend  the  air  with  frightful  cries, 
For  he  has  gained  the  welkin  blue, 

And  the  land  of  clouds  beneath  him  lies. 

XXIX. 

Up  to  the  cope  careering  swift, 

In  breathless  motion  fast, 
Fleet  as  the  swallow  cuts  the  drift, 

Or  the  sea-roc  rides  the  blast, 


THE  CULPRIT  FAT.  33 

The  sapphire  sheet  of  eve  is  shot, 

The  sphered  moon  is  past, 
The  earth  but  seems  a  tiny  blot 

On  a  sheet  of  azure  cast. 
Oh !  it  was  sweet,  in  the  clear  moonlight, 

To  tread  the  starry  plain  of  even, 
To  meet  the  thousand  eyes  of  night, 

And  feel  the  cooling  breath  of  heaven ! 
But  the  elfin  made  no  stop  or  stay 
Till  he  came  to  the  bank  of  the  milky  way, 
Then  he  checked  his  courser's  foot, 
And  watched  for  the  glimpse  of  the  planet-shoot. 

xxx. 

Sudden  along  the  snowy  tide 

That  swelled  to  meet  their  footsteps'  fall, 
The  sylphs  of  heaven  were  seen  to  glide, 

Attired  in  sunset's  crimson  pall ; 
Around  the  Fay  they  weave  the  dance, 

They  ski])  before  him  on  the  plain, 
And  one  has  taken  his  wasp-sting  lance, 

Ami  one  upholds  his  bridle-rein; 
With  warhlings  wild  they  lead  him  on 

To  where,  through  clouds  of  amber  seen, 
Studded  with  stars,  resplendent  shone 

The  palace  of  the  sylphid  queen. 
Its  spiral  columns,  gleaming  bright, 
Were  streamers  of  the  northern  light; 
Its  curtain's  light  and  lovely  Hush 
Was  of  the  morning's  rosy  blush  ; 
And  the  ceiling  fair  that  rose  aboon, 
The  white  and  feathery  fleece  of  noon. 

XXXI. 

Rut,  Oh  !  how  fair  the  shape  that  lay 
Beneath  a  rainbow  bending  bright; 

FOLK-LORE  :« 


34  AMERICAN   FOLK-LOBE. 

She  seemed  to  the  entranced  Fay 

The  loveliest  of  the  forms  of  light; 
Her  mantle  was  the  purple  rolled 

At  twilight  in  the  west  afar ; 
Twas  tied  with  threads  of  dawning  gold, 

And  buttoned  with  a  sparkling  star. 
Her  face  was  like  the  lily  roon 

That  veils  the  vestal  planet's  hue  ; 
Her  eyes,  two  beamlets  from  the  moon', 

Set  floating  in  the  welkin  blue. 
Her  hair  is  like  the  sunny  beam, 
And  the  diamond  gems  which  round  it  gleam 
Are  the  pure  drops  of  dewy  even 
That  ne'er  have  left  their  native  heaven. 

XXXII. 

She  raised  her  eyes  to  the  wondering  sprite, 

And  they  leaped  with  smiles,  for  well  I  ween 
Never  before  in  the  bowers  of  light 

Had  the  form  of  an  earthly  Fay  been  seen. 
Long  she  looked  in  his  tiny  face  ; 

Long  with  his  butterfly  cloak  she  played  ; 
She  smoothed  his  wings  of  azure  lace, 

And  handled  the  tassel  of  his  blade  ; 
And  as  he  told  in  accents  low 
The  story  of  his  love  and  woe, 
She  felt  new  pains  in  her  bosom  rise, 
And  the  tear-drop  started  in  her  eyes. 
And  "  0,  sweet  sprite  of  earth,"  she  cried, 

"  Return  no  more  to  your  woodland  height, 
But  ever  here  with  me  abide 

In  the  land  of  everlasting  light ! 
Within  the  fleecy  drift  we'll  lie, 

We'll  hang  upon  the  rainbow's  rim  ; 
And  all  the  jewels  of  the  sky 

Around  thy  brow  shall  brightly  beam  ! 


////•   CULPRIT   FAY.  3» 

And  thou  shalt  bathe  thee  in  the  stream 

That  rolls  its  whitening  foam  aboon. 
And  ride  upon  the  lightning's  gleam. 

And  dance  upon  the  orbed  moon  ! 
We'll  sit  upon  the  Pleiad  ring, 

We'll  rest  on  Orion's  starry  belt, 
And  I  will  bid  my  sylphs  to  sing 

The  song  that  makes  the  dew-mist  melt ; 
Their  harps  are  of  the  umber  shade, 

That  hides  the  blush  of  waking  day, 
And  every  gleaming  string  is  made 

Of  silvery  moonshine's  lengthened  ray  ; 
And  thou  shalt  pillow  on  my  breast, 

While  heavenly  breathings  float  around. 
And,  with  the  sylphs  of  ether  blest, 

Forget  the  joys  of  fairy  ground." 

XXXIII. 

She  was  lovely  and  fair  to  see, 

And  the  elfin's  heart  beat  fitfully; 

But  lovelier  far  and  still  more  fair, 

The  earthly  form  imprinted  there ; 

Naught  he  saw  in  the  heavens  above 

Was  half  so  dear  as  his  mortal  love, 

For  he  thought  upon  her  look  so  meek, 

And  he  thought  of  the  light  flush  on  her  cheek  ; 

Never  again  might  he  bask  and  lie 

On  that  sweet  cheek  and  moonlight  eye, 

But  in  his  dreams  her  form  to  see, 

To  clasp  her  in  his  revery, 

To  think  upon  his  virgin  bride, 

Was  worth  all  heaven,  and  earth  beside. 

x  x  x  i  v . 
-  Lady,"  ho  cried,  "  1  have  sworn  to-night, 
On  the  word  of  a  fairy  knight. 


36  AMERICAN  FOLK-LOBE. 

To  do  my  sentence-task  aright; 
My  honor  scarce  is  free  from  stain, 
I  may  not  soil  its  snows  again ; 
Betide  me  weal,  betide  me  woe, 
Its  mandate  must  be  answered  now." 
Her  bosom  heaved  with  many  a  sigh, 
The  tear  was  in  her  drooping  eye ; 
But  she  led  him  to  the  palace  gate, 

And  called  the  sylphs  who  hovered  there, 
And  bade  them  fly  and  bring  him  straight 

Of  clouds  condensed  a  sable  car. 
With  charm  and  spell  she  blessed  it  there, 
From  all  the  fiends  of  upper  air ; 
Then  round  him  cast  the  shadowy  shroud, 
And  tied  his  steed  behind  the  cloud ; 
And  pressed  his  hand  as  she  bade  him  fly 
Far  to  the  verge  of  the  northern  sky, 
For  by  its  wan  and  wavering  light 
There  was  a  star  would  fall  to-night. 

xxxv. 

Borne  afar  on  the  wings  of  the  blast, 
Northward  away  he  speeds  him  fast, 
And  his  courser  follows  the  cloudy  wain 
Till  the  hoof-strokes  fall  like  pattering  rain. 
The  clouds  roll  backward  as  he  flies, 
Each  flickering  star  behind  him  lies, 
And  he  has  reached  the  northern  plain, 
And  backed  his  firefly  steed  again, 
Ready  to  follow  in  its  flight 
.  The  streaming  of  the  rocket-light. 

XXXVI. 

The  star  is  yet  in  the  vault  of  heaven, 
But  it  rocks  in  the  summer  gale ; 


THE  CULPRIT  FAY.  37 

And  now  'tis  fitful  and  uneven, 

And  now  'tis  deadly  pale  ; 
And  now  'tis  wrapped  in  sulphur-smoke, 

And  quenched  is  its  rayless  beam, 
And  now  with  a  rattling  thunder-stroke 

It  bursts  in  flash  and  flame. 
As  swift  as  the  glance  of  the  arrowy  lance 

That  the  storm-spirit  flings  from  high, 
The  star-shot  flew  o'er  the  welkin  blue, 

As  it  fell  from  the  sheeted  sky. 
As  swift  as  the  wind  in  its  trail  behind 

The  elfin  gallops  along, 
The  fiends  of  the  clouds  are  bellowing  loud, 

But  the  sylphid  charm  is  strong ; 
He  gallops  unhurt  in  the  shower  of  fire, 

While  the  cloud-fiends  fly  from  the  blaze ; 
He  watches  each  flake  till  its  sparks  expire, 

And  rides  in  the  light  of  its  rays. 
But  he  drove  his  steed  to  the  lightning's  speed, 

And  caught  a  glimmering  spark; 
Then  wheeled  around  to  the  fairy  ground. 

And  sped  through  the  midnight  dark. 

Ouphe  and  Goblin  !   Imp  and  Sprite  ! 

Elf  of  eve  !  and  starry  Fay  ! 
Ye  that  love  the  moon's  soft  light, 

Hither,  hither  wend  your  way  ; 
Twine  ye  in  a  jocund  ring, 

Sing  and  trip  it  merrily, 
Hand  to  hand,  and  wing  to  wing, 

Round  the  wild  witch-hazel  tree. 

Hail  the  wanderer  again 

Willi  dance  and  song,  and  lute  and  lyre, 
Pure  his  wing  and  strong  his  chain, 
And  doubly  bright  his  fairy  fire. 

411 


38  AMERICAN  FOLK-LORE. 

Twine  ye  iu  an  airy  round, 

Brush  the  dew  and  print  the  lea; 

Skip  and  gambol,  hop  and  bound, 
Round  the  wild  witch-hazel  tree. 

The  beetle  guards  our  holy  ground, 

He  flies  about  the  haunted  place, 
And  if  mortal  there  be  found, 

He  hums  in  his  ears  and  flaps  his  face ; 
The  leaf-harp  sounds  our  roundelay, 

The  owlet's  eyes  our  lanterns  be ; 
Thus  we  sing,  and  dance,  and  play, 

Round  the  wild  witch-hazel  tree. 

But,  hark !  from  tower  on  tree-top  high, 

The  sentry-elf  his  call  has  made : 
A  streak  is  in  the  eastern  sky, 

Shapes  of  moonlight !  flit  and  fade  ! 
The  hill-tops  gleam  in  morning's  spring, 
The  skylark  shakes  his  dappled  wing, 
The  day-glimpse  glimmers  on  the  lawn, 
The  cock  has  crowed, — and  the  Fays  are  gone. 


BRITISH   FOLK-LORE. 

The  ancient  Britons  and  the  Celts  of  the  Continent  were 
governed  and  taught  by  the  Druids,  a  powerful  order  of 
bards,  vates  (seers),  and  priests.  The  Druids  possessed 
neither  temples  nor  books.  They  worshiped  generally  in 
sacred  groves,  and  held  in  special  reverence  the  oak  and  the 
mistletoe.  They  set  up  huge  stones  in  great  circles.  The 
most  famous  of  these  remaining  is  Stonehenge,  on  Salisbury 
plain.  The  Druids  were  possessed  of  considerable  learning, 
all  of  which  was  transmitted  orally.  Human  sacrifices  were 
offered  upon  their  altars  to  appease  offended  deities.  Their 
order  was  abolished  by  the  Romans.  The  English  festivals 
of  May  Day,  Midsummer  Eve,  and  Harvest-home  are  supposed 
to  have  had  their  origin  in  Druidical  observances. 

Norma,  in  Bellini's  opera  of  that  name,  is  a  Druid  priest- 
ess of  the  god  Irminsul,  in  Gaul  (France). 

The  mythical  history  of  England  commences  many  cen- 
turies before  the  time  of  Christ,  when  the  island  was  ruled 
by  the  giant  Albion,  a  son  of  Neptune  (see  Grecian  my- 
thology). 

Brutus,  or  Brute,  a  great-grandson  of  ^Eneas  (the  hero 
of  Vergil's  yEneid),  is  the  fabled  founder  of  London  (Troja- 
nova,  or  Troynovaut ),  and  with  his  followers  of  Trojan  de- 
scent is  said  to  have  exterminated  the  few  remaining  giants 
in  the  island.1 


1  Our  Jack  the  Giant-Killer  is  clearl j  Dm-  lasl  modem  transmutation  of  the 

uld  British  legend,  t"lt  in  Geoffrej  -  us  the  Trojan,  the 

companion  of  the  Trojan  Brutus  when  li<;  tlrs't  settles  in  Britain  ;  which  Co 

ieing  a  very  strong  mac  •  !  Bed  with 


40  BRITISH  FOLK-LORE. 

For  noble  Britons  sprong  from  Trojans  bold, 
And  Troynovant  was  built  of  old  Troy's  ashes  cold. 

— Spenser's  "  Faerie,  Queene" 

Of  the  many  legendary  kings  of  England,  but  few  are 
worthy  of  extended  notice. 

Leik,  the  King  Lear  of  Shakespeare,  is  one  of  these. 

Lud,  buried  near  one  of  the  portals  of  his  capital,  gave 
his  name  to  Ludgate,  and  from  the  same  name  some  derive 
that  of  the  British  capital  itself. 

Cassibellaunus  and  Cymbeline  '  are  semi-historical 
personages. 

Coel,  or  Cole,  is  famous  in  nursery  legend.  It  has  been 
held  by  some  historians  that  the  Empress  Helena  (St.  Helena, 
mother  of  Constantine,  the  first  Christian  emperor)  was  his 
daughter. 

Bunduca,  or  Bonduca,  is  the  historic  Queen  Boadicea. 

Aktiiur  2  is  by  far  the  most  celebrated  of  the  legendary 
kings.  In  his  praises  all  succeeding  ages  have  united.  Ar- 
thur is  a  real  personage.  His  history,  however,  has  been  so 
covered  over  with  romance  and  poetry,  with  distorted  and 
exaggerated  legend  and  pure  fable,  that  he  is  most  important 
as  a  character  in  fiction.     He  was  a  ruler  of  the  Britons  at 

being  King  of  Cornwall,  and  killing  out  the  aboriginal  giants  there,  leaving  to 
Brutus  all  the  rest  of  the  island,  and  only  stipulating  that,  whenever  there  is  a 
peculiarly  difficult  giant  in  any  part  of  Brutus's  dominions,  he  shall  be  sunt  for 
to  finish  the  fellow. — David  Massoti. 

i  The  resemblance  between  the  names  Cymbeline  and  Campbell  may  not 
be  accidental.  James  Parton  says:  "The  family  from  which  the  Marquis  of 
Lome  descends  is  one  of  the  most  ancient  in  Europe.  It  may  be  the  most  an- 
cient; for  there  is  some  reason  to  think  that  while  the  Romans  possessed  Brit- 
ain, one  of  his  ancestors  was  already  chief  of  a  Scottish  elan,  afterward  known 
as  the  elan  Campbell.1' 

2  It  was  in  the  struggle  against  Cerdic  that  the  British  King  Arthur  ac- 
quired bis  fame.  At  Camelot  (in  Somersetshire  i  he  gathered  around  him  the 
bravest  of  his  followers,  who  were  known  as  the  Knights  of  the  Round  Table; 
and  for  twenty-four  years  he  fought  bravely  for  his  kingdom,  and  conquered 
the  Saxons  in  twelve  battles.  He  is  said  to  have  Keen  mortally  wounded  in  a 
war  with  his  rebellious  nephew,  Modred,  and  buried  at  Glastonbury,  a.d.  542. 
— David  Morris. 


BRITISH  FOLK-LORE.  41 

the  time  of  the  early  Saxon  invasions  (in  the  fifth  century). 
He  is  said  to  have  maintained  a  court  of  Oriental  magnifi- 
cence at  his  capital,  Caerleon,  on  the  Usk  River,  in  Wales. 
This  is  supposed  to  be  the  modern  Cardiff.  Camelot,  fre- 
quently mentioned  in  the  legends  of  Arthur,  is  believed  to  be 
Winchester ;  and  Shalott,  the  town  of  Guildford.  Hamo's 
Port  is  doubtless  Southampton.  Lyonesse  was  a  fabulous  re- 
gion, said  to  have  been  contiguous  to  Cornwall,  and  at  a  later 
time  submerged  in  the  ocean.  The  innumerable  tales  of  the 
days  of  Arthur  center  in  his  Round  Table,  and  in  the  Holy 
Grail,  which  graced  it. 

The  Round  Table  had  seats  for  thirteen,  in  memory  of 
the  Apostles  of  the  Lord— the  seat  of  Judas  being  always  va- 
cant. A  variation  of  the  description  represents  forty  or  fifty 
seats,  with  one  place  left  vacant  in  honor  of  the  Grail.  The 
name  of  each  chosen  knight  was  written  on  the  marble. 

'I'm:  Holy  Grail,  or  Graal,  sometimes  called  Sangreal, 
was  the  emerald  cup  from  which,  it  is  said,  the  Saviour  drank 
at  the  Last  Supper.  It  was  originally  brought  from  Pales- 
tine, says  the  legend,  by  .Joseph  of  Arimathea,  and  long  re- 
mained in  England.  It  disappeared  from  view,  and  its  ab- 
sence was  attributed  to  the  sins  of  its  custodians.  Therefore 
the  Knights  of  the  Round  Tabic  set  forth  as  knights-errant, 
to  do  good,  to  work  penance,  to  redress  wrong,  and  to  de- 
serve, if  possible,  a  return  of  the  blessed  cup. 

The  stories  of  the  adventures  that  befell  the  venturesome 
souls  in  this  holy  quest  are  innumerable.  The  Grail  was  not 
recovered,  though  it  was  granted  to  some  to  behold  it,  gen- 
erally veiled  and  borne  by  angels  in  the  night. 

The  names  of  the  more  prominenl  of  the  knights  have 
been  rendered  familiar  by  modern  authors. 

Sir  Launfal,  in  his  quest,  me1  in  a  vision  a  leper  ask- 
ing alms,  to  whom  he  gave  a  part  of  his  crust  and  a  cup  of 
water. 

'Twas  a  moldy  eras!  "f  coarse  brown  bread, 
'Twaa  water  onl  ni  a  wooden  bowl, — 


42  BRITISH  FOLK-LORE. 

Yet  with  fine  wheaten  bread  was  the  leper  fed, 

And  'twas  red  wine  he  drank  with  his  thirsty  soul. 
As  Sir  Launfal  mused  with  a  downcast  face, 
A  light  shone  round  about  the  place  ; 
The  leper  no  longer  crouched  at  his  side, 
But  stood  before  him  glorified. 
Shining  and  tall  and  fair  and  straight 
As  the  pillar  that  stood  by  the  Beautiful  Gate — 
Himself  the  Gate  whereby  men  can 
Enter  the  temple  of  God  in  Man. 

"  Lo,  it  is  I,  be  not  afraid  ! 

In  many  climes,  without  avail, 

Thou  hast  spent  thy  life  for  the  Holy  Grail ; 

Behold,  it  is  here, — this  cup,  which  thou 

Didst  fill  at  the  streamlet  for  me  but  now  ; 

This  crust  is  my  body,  broken  for  thee, 

This  water  His  blood  that  died  on  the  tree  ; 

The  Holy  Supper  is  kept,  indeed, 

In  whatso  we  share  with  another's  need." 

— Lowell's  "  Vision  of  Sir  Launfal" 

Sir  Galahad  was  a  pure-hearted  knight,  with  whose 
death  the  visions  of  the  Holy  Grail  ceased  forever. 

Sometimes  on  lonely  mountain-meres 

I  find  a  magic  bark  ; 
I  leap  on  board— no  helmsman  steers, 

I  float,  till  all  is  dark. 
A  gentle  sound,  an  awful  light. 

Three  angels  bear  the  Holy  Grail : 
With  folded  feet,  in  stoles  of  white. 

On  sleeping  wings  they  sail. 

—  Tennyson's  "  Sir  Galahad." 

Sir  Gawaix,  or  Gawayne,  was  noted  alike  for  his  knight- 
ly virtues  and  for  the  wonderful  strength  with  which  he  was 
endowed  at  certain  hours  of  the  day.  He  is  described  by 
romancers  as  the  Sage  and  Courteous  Knight.  He  was  a 
brother  of  Agravain,  Gaharet,  and  Gareth. 

With  so  high  reverence  and  observance. 
S  i  well  in  speeche  as  in  countenance. 


BRITISH   FOLK-LORE.  43 

That  Gawain,  with  his  olde  courtesie. 
Though  he  were  come  agen  out  of  faerie, 
Ne  coude  him  not  amenden  with  a  word. 
— Chaucer'*  "  Squiere's  Talc" — "Canterbury  Tales." 

Sir  Tristram  (whose  name  signifies  surroivful)  was  led 
into  the  infamy  of  betraying  the  Princess  Iseult,  or  Isoude, 
who  was  committed  to  his  care  in  making  the  journey  from 
Ireland  to  meet  her  bridegroom,  his  uncle,  the  Cornish  King 
Mark.  The  queen-mother  of  Iseult  had  intrusted  to  Brang- 
wain,  maid  of  the  latter,  a  secret  and  magic  love-potion,  to 
be  drunk  by  King  Mark  and  his  bride.  This  was  unwittingly 
drunk  by  Sir  Tristram  and  Iseult,  and  proved  the  ruin  of 
both.  The  hopeless  love  for  the  Queen  of  Cornwall  ever 
burned  in  the  heart  of  Sir  Tristram.  Yielding  to  circum- 
stances, he  espoused  Isoude  of  the  White  Hands,  a  princess 
of  Brittany.  When  he  was  wounded  and  very  ill,  his  wife 
sent  for  the  Queen  of  Cornwall,  through  whose  ministrations 
he  had  once  recovered  from  a  deadly  illness.  But  in  a  mo- 
ment of  jealousy  Isoude  of  the  White  Hands  falsely  told  the 
hero  that  the  royal  lady  refused  to  come.  Sir  Tristram 
expired;  and  the  queen,  arriving  and  learning  his  fate,  was 
stricken  with  mortal  grief,  and  died  holding  his  dead  body 
in  her  arms.  Tristan  and  Is6lde  (other  forms  of  the  same 
names)  are  the  subject  of  one  of  Wagner's  exquisite  operas. 
Sir  Tristram  is  described  in  Spenser's  Faerie  Queene  (Book 
VI),  where  Su;  Calidobe  meets  him  in  a  forest.  In  the 
Idylls  of  the  King  Sir  Tristram  takes  up  the  harp  and  sings 
the  admired  lav  : 

Ay.  ay,  0  ay — the  winds  thai  bend  t i  1 » -  brier! 

A  star  in  heaven,  a  star  within  the  mere! 
Ay.  ay,  o  ay— a  star  was  my  desire, 

Ami  one  was  far  apart,  ami  one  was  near! 
Ay,  ay,  <>  ay-  the  winds  thai  i»>u  the  grass  I 

And  one  was  water  and  one  star  was  fire 
Ami  one  «iii  ever  shi  ■  will  pass. 

\\   a\   0  aj     the  winds  that  move  the  mere. 

iy son's  •  Last  Tournament." 


44  BRITISH   FOLK-LORE. 

Sir  Lancelot  du  Lac  was  a  bold  and  courageous  knight, 
but  the  betrayer  of  his  queen,  the  beautiful  Guinevere,  or 
Geneura,  wife  of  King  Arthur. 

Sir  Geraint  was  a  valorous  knight,  the  slayer  of  gianta. 
His  wife  Enid,  is  a  type  of  conjugal  fidelity  and  love. 

Sir  Bedivere  was  one  of  the  most  faithful  and  the  last 
of  the  Knights  of  the  Round  Table. 

Then  loudly  cried  the  bold  Sir  Bedivere  : 
"  Ah  !  my  Lord  Arthur,  whither  shall  I  go  ! 
Where  shall  I  hide  my  forehead  and  my  eyes  I 
For  now  I  see  the  true  old  times  are  dead, 
When  every  morning  brought  a  noble  chance, 
And  every  chance  brought  out  a  noble  knight. 
Such  times  have  been  not  since  the  light  that  led 
The  holy  Elders  with  the  gift  of  myrrh. 
But  now  the  whole  Round  Table  is  dissolved, 
Which  was  an  image  of  the  mighty  world, 
And  I,  the  last,  go  forth  companionless, 
And  the  days  darken  round  me,  and  the  years 
Among  new  men,  strange  faces,  other  minds." 

—  Tennyson's  "Morte  d' Arthur." 

Merlin  was  a  famous  enchanter,  who  figures  promi- 
nently in  the  legends  of  Arthur.  With  him  was  associated 
Vivien,  the  Lady  of  the  Lake,  whose  palace  was  in  the 
midst  of  a  mystic  lake  of  marvelous  and  unreal  properties. 

Besides  Guinevere,  the  faithless  queen,  Enid,  the  devoted 
wife,  and  Vivien,  the  enchantress,  there  was  Elaine,  the  Maid 
of  Astolat,  who  died  from  unrequited  love  for  Sir  Lancelot. 

Excalibur  was  the  name  of  King  Arthur's  famous  sword, 
which  he  alone,  of  more  than  two  hundred  nobles,  was  able 
to  detach  from  a  miraculous  stone.  It  was  because  of  this 
feat  that  Arthur  was  chosen  king.  As  he  drew  near  death, 
he  commanded  an  attendant  to  hurl  the  weapon  into  a  lake. 
This  was  done  with  reluctance,  but  a  hand  and  arm  arose 
from  the  water  and  waved  the  blade  thrice  before  it  sank. 

Fingal  and  Temora  are  chief  among  the  heroes  of  some 
compositions  purporting  to  be  translations  of  ancient  Celtic 


BRITISH  FOLK-LORE.  4S 

lays  of  Ossian,  a  traditionary  bard  of  North  Britain,  who  is 
believed  by  many  to  have  lived  in  the  fourth  century  of  the 
Christian  era.  These  poems — for  such  they  are  called,  though 
they  are  without  rhyme  or  meter — were  given  to  the  public 
by  James  Macpherson,  a  Scotch  writer,  who  failed  to  give 
any  satisfactory  account  of  the  alleged  originals.  They  at- 
tracted much  attention  in  the  latter  half  of  the  last  century, 
when  they  appeared.  They  are  now  regarded  as  forgeries. 
Their  singular  and  impressive  style  is  in  keeping  with  their 
mysterious  origin.1 

" Reyno.  The  wind  and  rain  are  over;  calm  is  the  noon  of  day. 
The  clouds  are  divided  in  heaven  ;  over  the  green  hill  flies  the  incon- 
stant sun;  nil.  through  the  stony  vale,  comes  down  the  stream  of  the 
hill.  Sweet  are  thy  murmurs,  0  stream.  But  more  sweet  is  the  voice  I 
hear.  It  is  the  voice  of  Alpin,  the  son  of  song,  mourning  for  the  dead. 
Benl  is  his  head  of  age,  and  red  his  tearful  eye.  Alpin,  thou  son  of 
song,  why  alone  on  the  silent  hill  1  Why  complainest  thou  as  a  blast 
in  the  wood,  as  a  wave  on  the  lonely  shore  f 

"Alpin.  My  tears,  0  Reyno,  are  for  the  dead  ;  my  voice  for  the  in- 
habitants of  the  grave.  Tall  thou  art  on  the  hill  ;  lair  among  the  sons 
of  the  slain.  But  thou  -halt  till  likeMorar;  and  the  mourners  shall 
sit  (in  thy  tomb.  Tin1  hills  shall  know  thee  no  more;  thy  bow  shall  lie 
in  the  halls  unstrung. 

"Thou  \\(>rt  swift,  O  Montr,  as  a  roe  on  the  hill;  terrible  as  a  meteor 
of  fire.  Thy  wrath  was  as  the  storm  ;  thy  sword  in  battle  as  lightning 
in  the  field.  Thy  voice  was  like  a  stream  after  rain;  like  thunder  on 
distant  hills.  Many  nil  by  thy  arm  ;  they  were  consumed  by  the 
flames  of  thy  wrath.  But  when  thou  didst  return  from  war,  how  peace- 
ful was  thy  brow  !  Thy  face  was  like  the  sun  after  rain  ;  like  the  moon 
in  the  silence  of  rrigh!  ;  calm  a-  the  breast  of  the  lake,  when  the  loud 
wind  is  hushed  into  repose." — Macpherson's  "  Trcmalation  of  Ossian" 

St.  Patrick's  Purgatory  is  the  name  applied  in  legend 
to  an  islet  in  Lough  Derg,  in  Ireland.  Tito  tradition  relat- 
ing to  the  locality  dates  from  early  Norman  days,  at  least — 
probably  from  an  era  much  more  remote. 


1  Sir  James  Mackintosh,  in  his  "  History  of  England,"  says  of  the  Ossianic 
compositions,  "No  other  imposture  in  literarj  history  approaches  them  in  the 

splendor  of  their  course." 


4«  BRITISR   FOLK-LOBE. 

Sir  Owain,  a  knight  of  the  court  of  King  Stephen  of 
England,  is  the  hero  of  an  old  English  romance,  who  is 
described  as  having  passed  through  St.  Patrick's  Purgatory. 
The  narrative  was  dramatized  by  the  Spanish  poet  Calderon 
in  the  seventeenth  century,  and  recalls  to  the  student  the 
Divina  Commedia  of  Dante. 

St.  Brandan,  or  Borandan,  is  the  name  of  an  ancient 
Celtic  ecclesiastic  and  navigator  of  Ireland,  who  is  said  to 
have  lived  in  the  sixth  century,  and  is  believed  by  some  to 
have  discovered  America.  His  name  was  long  given  to  a 
fabulous  flying  island  to  the  west  of  the  Canaries.  This  ap- 
peared on  maps  published  as  late  as  1755.  St.  Brandan  is 
the  subject  of  many  interesting  traditions. 

Maeldune  is  a  hero  of  ancient  Irish  legend,  who  is  said 
to  have  traversed  the  seas  on  an  errand  of  vengeance  and  to 
have  been  dissuaded  from  his  purpose  at  last  by  the  Christian 
teachings  of  a  saint  who  had  been  the  companion  of  St. 
Brandan.  The  Voyage  of  Maeldune  is  the  subject  of  a  poem 
by  Lord  Tennyson. 

The  mythology  of  the  Saxon  invaders  of  Great  Britain 
was  essentially  that  of  the  Norse.  They  named  the  first  day 
of  the  week  in  honor  of  the  sun,  and  the  second  in  honor  of 
the  moon.  Sater  was  their  form  of  Saturn,  and  is  pre- 
served in  the  name  of  the  seventh  day.  Eostre  was  the 
name  of  the  goddess  of  Spring,  for  whom,  singularly,  the 
Christian  festival  of  Easter  is  named. 

The  Saxons,  who  conquered  Arthur's  nation  and  occupied 
Britain,  giving  to  its  greater  part  the  name  of  one  of  their 
tribes  {England,  or  Angle-land,  from  the  Angles),  brought 
with  them  from  the  Continent  a  cycle  of  epic  ballads  recount- 
ing the  deeds  of  the  heroes  and  monsters.  Many  of  these 
old  songs  are  still  preserved.  They  possess  great  interest, 
since  they  constitute  the  oldest  existing  composition  in  the 
mother  tongue  of  the  English,  and  bring  before  us  the 
mvthical  beings  that  occupied  the  minds  of  our  forefathers. 


BRITISH   FOLK-LORE.  47 

Hrothgar  was  a  great  King  of  Denmark,  who  built  a 
vast  feasting  hall  for  his  warriors  and  councilors  in  com- 
memoration of  his  victories. 

Grexdel  was  a  terrible  spirit  of  evil,  a  hideous  monster 
of  the  fens,  who  stole  away  thirty  sleeping  Danes  from  the 
hall,  and  devoured  them,  and  often  returned  for  more 
through  a  period  of  twelve  years. 

Beowulf  (probably  so  railed  from  the  name  of  the  wood- 
pecker), the  hero,  was  a  chief  from  the  Geat  Country  (Brit- 
ain), who  came  to  the  aid  of  Hrothgar.  Unaided  and  un- 
armed, Beowulf  silently  awaited  in  the  great  hall  the  ap- 
proach of  the  fearful  monster.  Grendel  advanced  in  the 
darkness,  and  sated  his  horrible  thirst  with  the  life-blood  of 
a  sleeping  Dane.  He  then  came  to  Beowulf  himself.  The 
hero  boldly  grasped  his  assailant,  and  a  terrible  conflict  en- 
sued, in  which  the  great  building  resounded  and  even  shook 
with  the  fury  of  the  struggle.  The  monster's  arm  and  shoul- 
der-blade were  completely  severed  from  his  body,  and  in  the 
agonies  of  approaching  death  he  tied  to  his  fens,  where  he 
expired. 

His  mission  accomplished,  Beowulf  returned  to  his  home 
in  the  country  of  the  Geats,  where  he  subsequently  reigned 
for  half  a  century.  The  last  of  the  famous  deeds  of  Beowulf 
was  his  encounter  with  a  great  Dragon  which  lived  in  a  cave 
by  the  seashore.  The  cave  contained  a  vast  treasure  of  gold, 
from  which  a  golden  cup  was  stolen  by  one  of  Beowulf's  sub- 
jects. The  infuriated  Dragon  rained  fire  upon  the  kingdom, 
and  the  conflagration  advanced  to  the  very  palace  of  Beowulf. 
With  the  assistance  of  but  one  man,  Beowulf  destroyed  the 
Dragon,  but  was  himself  killed  by  the  poison  of  its  blood, 
with  which  his  hands  were  imbrued.  Beowulf  died  in  peace, 
gazing  upon  a  portion  of  the  treasure  which  he  had  won  for 
his  country. 

jEschere  was  a  member  of  Erothgar's  council,  who  was 
slain  by  Grendel's  mother.  The  latter  was  sought  by  Beo- 
wulf in  her  foul  fen.     She  dragged  the  hero  into  her  cave, 


48  BRITISH  FOLK-LORE. 

where  he  seized  a  great  sword  which  was  hanging  upon  the 
wall  and  slew  her. 

Wiglaf  was  a  kinsman  of  Beowulf,  who  assisted  his  king 
in  the  battle  with  the  fiery  Dragon.  While  Beowulf  seized 
the  monster,  Wiglaf  with  a  great  sword  divided  the  body 
in  twain. 

The  oldest  manuscript  of  the  poetic  cycle  relating  to  Beo- 
wulf's deeds  dates  probably  from  the  tenth  century.  The 
poem  consists  of  several  thousand  lines.  It  is  not  rhymed, 
but  is  full  of  alliteration,  as,  indeed,  we  find  all  early  English 
poems,  the  grace  of  rhyme  having  been  acquired  by  poets 
later. 

Long  before  the  poem  was  written  it  was  orally  trans- 
mitted. It  is,  in  fact,  impossible  to  say  when  it  was  first 
committed  to  writing,  though  probably  this  was  not  until  the 
beginning  of  the  eighth  century. 

In  the  time  of  Queen  Elizabeth  the  genius  of  Edmund 
Spenser  introduced  into  English  letters  a  new  class  of  im- 
aginary personages  in  his  great  work,  The  Faerie  Queene.1 
These  differ  from  other  British  myths  in  that  they  are  not 
derived  from  ancient  popular  tradition,  but  were  created  to 
serve  the  purposes  of  the  poem.  They  are  allegorical  char- 
acters, representing  abstract  virtues  and  vices ;  but  Spenser 
has  interwoven  with  his  narrative  some  very  ancient  legends. 

Glorias  is  the  Faerie  Queene,  representing  glory,  but 

1  This  was  the  last  great  work  modeled  on  chivalry.  Awakening  from 
the  gloom  of  the  theological  contests  of  Edward  and  Mary,  the  court  of  the 
Maiden  Queen,  from  state  policy  and  her  own  disposition,  had  been  trans- 
formed into  a  court  of  romance.  Glory  was  the  cheap  but  inappreciable  meed 
bestowed  by  the  economical  sovereign,  and  love  was  the  language  to  which  the 
female  from  the  throne  could  bend  to  listen  to  her  subject.  Elizabeth,  stately 
and  tender,  was  herself  the  Faerie  Queene,  without  even  the  poet's  flattery, 
when  seated  under  the  dais,  amid  long  galleries  hung  with  cloth  of  gold  or 
silver,  and  all  the  moving  tilt-yard  glittering  in  its  sheen ;  "  the  noise  of  music  " 
and  the  sound  of  shields ;  the  solemn  procession  and  gay  crowds  of  the  many- 
colored  liveries  ;  the  tasseled  caparisons  of  the  horses  and  the  nodding  plumes 
of  the  knights, — Isaac  Disraeli, 


BRITISH    FOLK-LOME.  49 

portraying  especially  the  majesty  of  the  Virgin  Queen  of 
England. 

[txa  is  a  lovely  lady,  symbolizing  truth  ;  her  name  (mean- 
ing, in  Latin,  one)  has  reference  to  her  singleness  of  purpose 
and  integrity  of  character. 

The  Red-Cross  Knight  is  a  hero  typifying  holiness. 
He  releases  the  father  and  the  kingdom  of  Una  from  the 
power  of  a  great  Dragon,  which  he  slays. 

Acrasia  is  a  witch,  depicted  as  dwelling  in  the  Bower 
of  Bliss,  upon  a  floating  island  of  marvelous  beauty.  She  is 
a  type  of  intemperance. 

Sir  Guyon  is  a  knight,  commissioned  by  the  Faerie 
Queene  to  arrest  Acrasia  and  destroy  her  home.  He  typifies 
temperance  and  self-control. 

Amoret  is  a  lady  of  the  court,  who  is  wooed  and  won  by 
Sir  Scudamore.  She  personifies  conjugal  devotion  and  wom- 
anly tenderness. 

Britomartis.  or  Britomart,  is  a  lady  knight,  armed  with 
a  resistless  magic  spear.    She  is  a  type  of  chastity  and  purity. 

Duessa  is  a  base  wit<h,  who,  under  tha  name  Fidessa, 
assumes  the  disguise  of  a  lovely  woman  in  distress,  and  en- 
tices the  Red -Cross  Knight  into  the  House  of  Pride,  where 
his  virtue  becomes  weakened;  and  he  is  overcome  by  Orgo- 
glio.  She  is  overcome  by  Prince  Arthur,  and  betakes  herself 
in  shame  to  a  wilderness. 

Orooglio  is  a  giant,  the  consort  of  Dues-a. 

In  addition  to  the  characters  mentioned  above  are  Archi- 
mago  (hypocrisy),  Abessa  (superstition),  Ignaro  (ignorance), 
Sans  Loy  (lawlessness),  Sans  Joy  (moroseness),  the  Seven 
Deadly  Sin-  (idleness,  gluttony,  lechery,  avarice,  envy,  wrath, 
and  pride).  Fidelia  (faith),  Speranza  (hope),  Charissa  (char- 
ity). Mercy,  Patience,  and  several  others. 

The  fairy-lore  of  England  is  of  high  antiquity.  Shake- 
speare makes  use  of  it  in  the  Midsummer- Night's  Dream 
and  in  Romeo  and  Juliet. 

I  OLK-LORI    1 


SO  BRITISH  FOLK- LOBE. 

Oberon  and  his  wife  Titania,  king  and  queen  of  the 
fairies,  are  said  to  have  come  from  India  to  northern  Europe 
to  dance  by  moonlight. 

Queen  Mab,  a  fairy  queen,  is  a  myth  derived  from  an 
Irish  princess  of  old  time. 

Puck,  known  at  first  as  a  fiend,  appears  in  Shakespeare  as 
a  "  merry  wanderer  of  the  night,"  and  is  called  also  Robin 
Goodfellow. 

NOTES    OF    LITERATURE    RELATING    TO    BRITISH    FOLK-LORE. 

Edmund  Spenser's  great  poem,  The  Faerie  Queene  contains  a  suc- 
cinct account  of  all  the  legendary  kings  of  England  down  to  Uther,  the 
father  of  King  Arthur.  Spenser  ranks  among  the  four  great  masters 
of  English  verse,  and  his  Faerie  Queene  is  one  of  the  greatest  classics 
in  the  language.  Later  poets  have  generally  acknowledged  their  in- 
debtedness to  him  for  much  of  their  inspiration.  The  measure  in  which 
he  wrote  is  known  as  the  Spenserian  stanza.  The  Faerie  Queene  is  the 
repository  of  the  Spenserian  myths.  One  of  the  most  familiar  cantos 
of  the  poem  is  that  which  describes  the  slaying  of  the  Dragon. 

Boadicea,  the  British  queen,  emerges  for  a  moment  from  the 
shadowy  realm  of  legend  into  the  clear  light  of  recorded  history  through 
her  heroic  but  ineffectual  struggle  with  the  Roman  power  in  Britain. 
She  is  the  subject  of  a  number  of  poems  by  various  authors.  Lord 
Tennyson's  Boadicea  is  a  remarkable  composition,  classed  among  his 
Experiments.  William  Cowper's  Boadicea  is  one  of  the  best  of  his 
odes. 

King  Arthur,  as  previously  stated,  is  supposed  to  have  flourished  at 
about  the  time  of  the  Saxon  invasion,  in  the  fifth  century  a.  d.  He 
figures  prominently  in  a  very  unhistorical  History  of  the  Kings  of 
Britain,  which  was  written  (in  Latin)  by  Geoffrey  of  Monmouth,  about 
the  year  1150.  The  Welsh  claim  that  the  materials  for  this  work  were 
taken  from  an  older  history  by  St.  Talian,  Bishop  of  St.  Asaph,  of  the 
seventh  century,  and  that  Geoffrey's  book  was  a  translation  from  the 
Welsh,  or  Armorican. 

The  growth  of  Arthurian  legend  is  thus  critically  traced  by  J.  R. 
Green,  in  his  Short  History  of  the  English  People  :  "  Out  of  Geoffrey's 
creation  grew,  little  by  little,  the  poem  of  the  '  Table  Round.'  Brittany, 
which  has  mingled  with  the  story  of  Arthur  the  older  and  more  mys- 
terious legend  of  the  Enchanter  Merlin,  lent  that  of  Lancelot  to  the 
wandering  minstrels  of  the  day,  who  molded  it,  as  they  wandered  from 
hall  to  hall,  into  the  familiar  sons?  of  knighthood  wrested  from  its 


.VOTES  OF   LITERATURE.  61 

loyalty  by  the  love  of  woman.  The  stories  of  Tristram  and  Gawayne, 
at  first  as  independent  as  that  of  Lancelot,  were  drawn  with  it  into  the 
whirlpool  of  Arthurian  romance  ;  and  when  the  Church,  jealous  of  the 
popularity  of  the  legends  of  chivalry,  invented  as  a  counteracting  in- 
fluence the  poem  of  the  Sacred  Dish,  the  San  Graal,  which  held  the 
blood  of  the  Cross,  invisible  to  all  eyes  but  those  of  the  pure  in  heart, 
the  genius  of  a  court  poet,  Walter  de  Map,  wove  the  rival  legends  to- 
gether, sent  Arthur  and  his  knights  wandering  over  sea  and  land  in 
the  quest  of  the  San  Graal,  and  crowned  the  work  by  the  figure  of  Sir 
Galahad,  the  type  of  ideal  knighthood,  without  fear  and  without 
reproach." 

The  Mabinogeon  of  the  Welsh  is  a  repository  of  early  British 
romance. 

The  Chronicles  of  Holinshed  (who  wrote  in  the  sixteenth  century) 
have  supplied  to  later  writers  much  interesting  material  for  semi-his- 
torical romances.  The  story  of  King  Lear  is  found  in  these  Chroni- 
cles, and  is  related  by  Spenser  in  The  Faerie  Queene.  and  appears  also 
in  a  ballad  in  Percy's  Jieliques.  Holinshed  relates  the  suicide  of  Cor- 
delia after  the  death  of  Lear,  her  father.  Shakespeare  omits  this  in 
order  to  bring  his  drama  to  a  happy  ending,  and  he  takes  liberties  with 
the  narrative  in  various  details.  Shakespeare's  Cymbeline  is  likewise 
based  lightly  upon  a  fragment  of  history  found  in  Holinshed,  though 
the  drama  is  of  no  historical  value. 

The  Reliques  of  Ancient  English  Poetry  was  carefully  compiled  in 
the  last  century  by  Thomas  Percy,  an  English  bishop. 

Thomas  Bulfinch,  an  American  writer,  published  in  1858  The  Age 
of  Chivalry ,  a  fine  collection  of  Arthurian  legends  in  the  quaint  and 
beautiful  English  prose  of  old  days.  A  few  years  later,  Alfred  Tenny- 
son, the  Laureate  of  England,  wrote,  as  a  tribute  to  the  lamented  Prince 
Consort,  a  cycle  of  artistic  poems  embodying  these  legends,  and  entitled 
Idylls  of  the  King. 

Robert  Browning  has  developed  into  a  powerful  poem  a  brief  and 
obscure  reference  to  Childe  Roland?  which  occurs  in  Shakespeare's 
King  Lear. 

1  The  suggestion  of  this  poem  is  a  line  from  "  King  Lear"  this,  ami  nothing 
more:  "Childe  Roland  to  the  'lark  tower  came."    Who  Childe  Roland  was, 

where  tin-  .lark  tower  was,  why  he  came  to  tin-  .lark  town-,  what  lie  'li<l  when 
In-  Lrot  there,  no  commentator  on  Shakespeare  has  ever  been  able  to  tell.  But 
this  mysterious  line  has  a  certain  fascination,  as  all  mystery  lias.  .  .  .  This  is  a 
very  mysterious  poem,  and  I  doubl  not  that  any  one  who  will  read  it  once  will 
find  it  so.  Perhaps  you  who  read  it  in  the  lighl  of  this  interpretation  may  find 
a  suggestion  in  it:    1  see  a  man  who    el     oul  on    ome  great,  noble  errand,     lie 


32  BRITISR  FOLK-LORE. 

The  story  of  Tristram  and  Iseult  (Isoude)  form?  the  subject  of  a 
poem  by  Algernon  Charles  Swinburne,  entitled  Tristram  of  Lyonesse. 

A  later  revision  of  Bulfinch's  Age  of  Chivalry,  edited  by  Edward 
Everett  Hale,  includes  some  narratives  taken  from  The  Mahinogeon. 

References  to  early  British  heroes  are  common  in  the  literature  of 
the  United  Kingdom  and  of  the  United  States. 

Among  the  most  recent  books  relating  to  the  subject  is  A  Yankee 
in  King  Arthur  s  Court,  by  Samuel  L.  Clemens  ("  Mark  Twain  ").  This 
is  a  clever  satire  upon  abuses  in  government  and  religion.  It  introduces 
a  representative  American  of  our  own  realistic  age  into  the  shadowy 
realm  of  Arthur's  mystic  court,  and  abounds  in  striking  and  significant 
contrasts. 

A  belief  in  such  supernatural  agencies  as  witches,  warlocks,  etc.,  has 
been  characteristic  of  the  Scotch,  though  by  no  means  peculiar  to  that 
people.  Shakespeare's  Macbeth  (which  is  based  upon  an  account  in 
Holinshed's  Chronicle)  abounds  in  witches  and  ghosts. 

One  of  the  most  popular  of  all  Scotch  poems  is  Tarn  o'  Shanter, 
by  Robert  Burns.  This  was  composed  but  little  more  than  a  century 
ago,  and  describes  a  revel  of  warlocks  and  witches  in  "Alio way's  auld 
haunted  kirk,"  which  was  witnessed  by  a  drunkard,  who  unwittingly 
interrupted  the  revel,  and  was  pursued  by  the  demoniac  crowd  to  the 
middle  of  a  stream.  Beyond  this,  according  to  popular  belief,  the  super- 
natural beings  dared  not  go,  though  one  of  them  succeeded  in  snatch- 
ing off  the  tail  of  Meg,  the  mare  which  carried  the  hero  in  his  flight. 

Prince  Madoc,  a  Welsh  hero  of  the  twelfth  century,  who  is  said  to 
have  discovered  America  and  to  have  founded  a  colony  in  the  New 
World,  is  the  subject  of  a  poem  by  Robert  Southey,  which  was  pub- 
lished in  1805.     It  contains  beautiful  descriptions,  and  its  subject  is 


has  a  noble  ideal,  to  which  he  swears  allegiance — certain  principles  of  lite  to 
which  he  pledges  his  faith  ;  but  lie  has  been  so  long  delayed  in  it,  the  way  lias 
been  so  long,  the  discouragements  so  many,  the  failures  of  his  friends  so  disap- 
pointing, that  broken,  discouraged,  weary,  utterly  out  of  heart,  not  lifted  by  any- 
thing which  we  think  usually  lifts  the  hero,  he  plods  on,  and  at  last  comes  to 
where  his  very  ideal  is  seen,  and  he  is  disappointed  even  in  that.  A  squat 
tower  appears,  where  once  he  thought  the  City  of  God  would  lift  him.  Not- 
withstanding all  this  discouragement  and  weariness  and  protracted  labor,  not- 
withstanding his  hopes  have  almost  died  away  and  his  effort  is  relaxed,  and 
even  his  enthusiasms  are  wasted  at  the  last,  still,  true  to  his  word,  dauntless 
he  sets  to  his  lips  the  horn,  and  blows  his  blast  of  defiance  and  of  victory. — 
Of  car  C.McCulloch. 


.VOTES  OF   LITERATURE.  S3 

one  of  deep  interest.  The  narrative,  however,  possesses  bur  little  au- 
thentic basis. 

Owaix  Gwynedd  whs  one  of  the  greatest  of  the  old  Welsh  nion- 
archs.  His  capital  was  Aberfraw,  and  he  is  said  to  have  reigned  from 
1137  to  1169.  According  to  the  story,  he  had  nineteen  children,  seven- 
teen being  sons,  of  whom  Madoc  was  one.  Hywel,  whose  mother  was 
an  Irish  princess,  succeeded  to  the  Welsh  throne :  for,  though  he  was 
not  the  oldest,  his  elder  brother  was  incapacitated  for  reigning  because 
of  a  physical  injury.  While  Hywel  was  making  a  visit  to  his  mother's 
estate  in  Ireland,  his  brother  Davydd  (David)  asserted  a  claim  to  the 
throne,  in  view  of  his  unmixed  Welsh  blood  (for  Davydd's  mother  was 
a  Briton),  and  Hywell  was  slain  on  his  return.  Davydd  became  a 
tyrant,  like  Macbeth  in  Shakespeare's  play.  He  slew  one  of  the  re- 
maining brothers,  imprisoned  another,  and  banished  the  rest — all  ex- 
cept Madoc,  who  was  commander  of  the  fleet.  The  armament  under 
Madoc's  command  appears  to  have  been  strong  enough  to  oppose  suc- 
cessfully the  British  fleet  at  the  mouth  of  Menai  Strait,  in  a  somewhat 
important  conflict  which  occurred  in  1142.  Prince  Madoc  did  not  wait 
to  experience  in  his  own  person  his  brother's  fury,  but,  leaving  his  em- 
broiled country,  he  set  sail  for  unknown  regions  to  the  west  of  the  Brit- 
ish Isles.  To  what  shore  he  went  no  one  can  assert  with  any  certainty ; 
but  it  is  said  that  he  sailed  over  the  broad  Atlantic  until  he  reached  a 
vast  unknown  land  on  the  other  side.  From  the  new-found  world  he 
subsequently  returned  to  Wales,  with  glowing  accounts  of  his  discovery. 
These  must  have  been  highly  encouraging,  for  he  was  able  to  fit  out 
speedily  a  second  expedition  of  ten  ships  and  about  three  hundred  peo- 
ple.    His  brother  RlEYD,  of  Irelan'd,  joined  fortunes  with  him. 

The  ships  set  sail  from  the  isle  of  Anglesea.  A  small  port  about 
five  miles  from  Bolyhead  was  the  scene  of  the  departure.  The  fate  of 
this  expedition  is  unknown. 


54  BRITISH  FOLK-LORE. 

THE    FAERIE    QUEENE. 

BY   EDMUND   SPENSER. 

Book  II. — Canto  X. 

A  chronicle  of  Briton  kings. 
From  Brute  to  Uther's  reign. 


The  land  which  warlike  Britons  now  possess, 

And  therein  have  their  mighty  empire  raised, 

In  antique  times  was  savage  wilderness, 

Unpeopled,  unmanured,  improved,  unpraised  ; 

Ne  was  it  island  then,  ne  was  it  paysed 

Amid  the  ocean  waves,  ne  was  it  sought 

Of  merchants  far  for  profits  therein  praised  ; 

But  was  all  desolate,  and  of  some  thought 

By  sea  to  have  been  from  the  Celtic  mainland  brought. 

VI. 

Ne  did  it  then  deserve  a  name  to  have, 

Till  that  the  venturous  mariner  that  way 

Learning  his  ship  from  those  white  rocks  to  save, 

Which  all  along  the  southern  seacoast  lay 

Threat'ning  unheedy  wreck  and  rash  decay, 

For  safety  that  same  his  sea-mark  made, 

And  named  it  Albion  -,1  but  later  day, 

Finding  in  it  fit  ports  for  fishers'  trade, 

Gan  more  the  same  frequent,  and  further  to  invade. 

VII. 

But  far  inland  a  savage  nation  dwelt 
Of  hideous  giants,  and  half-beastly  men, 
That  never  tasted  grace,  nor  goodness  felt ; 
But  wild  like  beasts  lurking  in  loathsome  den. 


1  The  name  is  derived  from  Albus,  meaning  white. 


THE  FAERIE    QUEEJVE. 

And  flying  fast  as  roebuck  through  the  feu, 

All  naked,  without  shame  or  care  of  cold, 

By  hunting  and  by  spoiling  lived  then  ; 

Of  stature  huge,  and  eke  of  courage  bold, 

That  sons  of  men  amazed  their  sternness  to  behold. 

VIII. 

But  whence  they  sprang,  or  how  they  were  begot, 

Uneath  is  to  assure ;  uneath  to  ween, 

That  monstrous  error  which  doth  some  assot, 

That  Dioclesian's  fifty  daughters  sheen 

Into  this  land  by  chance  have  driven  been ; 

Where  compan'ing  with  fiends  and  filthy  sprights 

Through  vain  illusion  of  their  lust  unclean, 

They  brought  forth  giants  and  such  dreadful  wights 

As  far  exceeded  men  in  their  immeasured  mights. 

IX. 

They  held  this  laud,  and  with  their  filthiness 

Polluted  this  same  gentle  soil  long  time  ; 

That  their  own  mother  loath'd  their  beastliness, 

And  gan  abhor  her  broods'  unkindly  crime, 

All  were  they  born  of  her  own  native  slime : 

Until  that  Brutus,  anciently  derived 

From  royal  stock  of  old  Assarac's  line, 

Driven  by  fatal  error  here  arrived, 

And  them  of  their  unjust  possession  deprived. 

\. 
But  ere  he  had  established  his  throne, 
A  inl  spread  his  empire  to  the  utmost  shore, 
He  fought  great  battles  with  his  savage  fone; 
In  which  he  them  defeated  evermore, 
And  many  giants  lefl  on  groaning  floor, 
That  well  can  witness  yel  unto  this  day 
The  western  EEogh,  besprinkled  with  the  gore 


56  BRITISH  FOLK-LORE. 

Of  mighty  Goemot,  whom  in  stout  fray 
Corineus  conquered,  and  cruelly  did  slay 


si. 

And  eke  that  ample  Pit,  yet  far  renown'd 
For  the  large  leap  which  Debon  did  compel 
Coulin  to  make,  being  eight  lugs  of  ground, 
Into  the  which  returning  back  he  fell : 
But  those  three  monstrous  stones  do  most  excel, 
Which  that  huge  son  of  hideous  Albion, 
Whose  father  Hercules  iu  France  did  quell, 
Great  Godmer  threw,  in  fierce  contention, 
At  bold  Canutus  ;  but  of  him  was  slain  anon. 

XII. 

In  meed  of  these  great  conquests  by  them  got, 
Corineus  had  that  province  utmost  west 
To  him  assigned  for  his  worthy  lot 
Which  of  his  name  and  memorable  gest 
He  called  Cornwall,  yet  so  called  best : 
And  Debon's  share  was,  that  is  Devonshire  : 
But  Canute  had  his  portion  from  the  rest, 
The  which  he  called  Canutium,  for  his  hire ; 
Now  Cantium,  which  Kent  we  commonly  inquire. 

XIII. 

Thus  Brute  this  realm  unto  his  rule  subdued, 

And  reigned  long  in  great  felicity. 

Loved  of  his  friends,  and  of  his  foes  eschew'd  : 

He  left  three  sons,  his  famous  progeny. 

Born  of  fair  Inogeu  of  Italy ; 

Mongst  whom  he  parted  his  imperial  state, 

And  Locrine  left  chief  lord  of  Britanny. 

At  last  ripe  age  bade  him  surrender  late 

His  life,  and  long  good  fortune,  unto  final  fate. 


THE    FAERIE  QUEENE.  57 

N.LY. 

Locrine  was  left  the  sovereign  lord  of  all ; 

But  Albanact  had  all  the  northern  part, 

Which  of  himself  Albania  he  did  call ; 

And  Camber  did  possess  the  western  quart. 

Which  Severn  now  from  Logris  doth  depart : 

And  each  his  portion  peaceably  enjoy'd, 

Xe  was  there  outward  breach,  nor  grudge  in  heart, 

That  once  their  quiet  government  annoy VI  ; 

But  each  his  pains  to  others1  profit  still  employ M. 

\\ . 
Until  a  nation  strange,  with  visage  swart 
And  courage  fierce  that  all  men  did  affray, 
Which  through  the  world  then  swarm'd  in  every  part, 
And  overflow'd  all  countries  far  away. 
Like  Xoye's  great  flood,  with  their  importune  sway, 
This  land  invaded  with  like  violence, 
And  did  themselves  through  all  the  north  display  : 
Until  that  Locrine,  for  his  realm's  defence, 
Did  head  against  them  make  and  strong  munificence. 

XVI. 

He  them  encount'red,  a  confused  rout, 
Foreby  the  river  that  whylome  was  bight 
The  ancient  Abus,  where  with  courage  stout 
He  them  defeated  in  victorious  fight, 
And  chased  bo  fiercely  after  fearful  flight, 
That  forced  their  chieftain,  for  his  safety's  sake 
(Their  chieftain  Humber  named  was  aright). 
Unto  the  mighty  stream  him  to  betake, 
Where  be  an  end  of  battle  and  of  life  did  make. 

\  v  1 1 . 

The  king  returned  proud  of  victorj 

And  insolent  wom-  through  unwonted  ease, 


58  BRITISH  FOLK-LORE. 

That  shortly  he  forgot  the  jeopardy, 

Which  in  his  land  he  lately  did  appease, 

And  fell  to  vain  voluptuous  disease  : 

He  loved  fair  Lady  Estrild,  lewdly  loved, 

Whose  wanton  pleasures  him  too  much  did  please, 

That  quite  his  heart  from  Guendolene  removed, 

From  Guendolene  his  wife,  though  always  faithful  proved. 

XVIII. 

The  noble  daughter  of  Corineus 

Would  not  endure  to  be  so  vile  disdain'd, 

But,  gathering  force  and  courage  valorous, 

Encount'red  him  in  battle  well  ordain'd, 

In  which  him  vanquish'd  she  to  fly  constrain'd  : 

But  she  so  fast  pursued,  that  him  she  took 

And  threw  in  bands,  where  he  till  death  remain'd  ; 

Als  his  fair  leman  flying  through  a  brook 

She  overhent,  nought  moved  with  her  piteous  look. 

XIX. 

But  both  herself,  and  eke  her  daughter  dear 
Begotten  by  her  kingly  paramour, 
The  fair  Sabrina,  almost  dead  with  fear, 
She  there  attacked,  far  from  all  succour  : 
The  one  she  slew  in  that  impatient  stoure, 
But  the  sad  virgin  innocent  of  all 
Adown  the  rolling  river  she  did  pour, 
Which  of  her  name  now  Severn  men  do  call : 
Such  was  the  end  that  to  disloyal  love  did  fall. 

xx. 

Then  for  her  son,  which  she  to  Locrine  bore, 
Madan  was  young,  unmeet  the  rule  to  sway, 
In  her  own  hand  the  crown  she  kept  in  store, 
Till  riper  years  he  raught  and  stronger  stay  : 


THE  FAERIE  QUEENE.  59 

During  which  time  her  power  she  did  display 
Through  all  this  realm  the  glory  of  her  sex, 
And  first  taught  men  a  woman  to  obey  : 
But,  when  her  son  to  man's  estate  did  wex, 
She  it  surrend'red,  ne  herself  would  longer  vex. 

XXI. 

Tho  Madan  reign'd  unworthy  of  his  race ; 

For  with  all  shame  that  sacred  throne  he  fill'd. 

Next  Memprise,  as  unworthy  of  that  place, 

In  which  being  consorted  with  Manild, 

For  thirst  of  single  kingdom  him  he  kill'd. 

But  Ebranck  salved  both  their  infamies 

With  noble  deeds,  and  warred  on  Brunchild 

In  Henault,  where  yet  of  his  victories 

Brave  monuments  remain  which  yet  that  land  envies. 

XXII. 

An  happy  man  in  his  first  days  he  was, 

And  happy  father  of  fair  progeny  : 

For  all  so  many  weeks,  as  the  year  has, 

80  many  children  he  did  multiply  ; 

Of  which  were  twenty  sons,' which  did  apply 

Their  minds  to  praise  and  chivalrous  desire  : 

Those  germans  did  subdue  all  (iermany, 

Of  whom  it  hight,  but  in  the  end  their  sire 

With  foul  repulse  from  France  was  forced  to  retire. 

win. 
Which  blot  bis  son  succeeding  in  his  seat, 
The  second  Brute,  the  second  both  in  name 
And  eke  in  semblance  of  his  puissance  great, 
Righl  well  recured,  and  did  away  thai  blame 
\\  ith  recompense  of  everlasting  fame  : 
He  with  his  victor  sword  firs!  opened 
The  bowels  of  wide  Prance,  a  forlorn  dame, 


60  BRITISH  FOLK-LORE. 

And  taught  her  first  how  to  be  conquered  ; 

Since  which,  with  sundry  spoils  she  hath  been  ransacked. 

XXIV. 

Let  Scaldis  tell,  and  let  tell  Hania, 
And  let  the  marsh  of  Esthambruges  tell, 
What  colour  were  their  waters  that  same  day 
And  all  the  moor  twixt  Elversham  and  Dell, 
With  blood  of  Henalois  which  therein  fell. 
How  oft  that  day  did  sad  Brunchildis  see 
The  green  shield  dyed  in  dolorous  vermeil? 
That  not  scuith  guiriclh l  it  mote  seem  to  be, 
But  rather  y  scuith  gogh,2  sign  of  sad  cruelty. 

XXV. 

His  son,  king  Leill,  by  father's  labour  long, 

Enjoy'd  an  heritage  of  lasting  peace, 

And  built  Cairleill,  and  built  Cairleon  strong. 

Next  Hudibras  his  realm  did  not  encrease, 

But  taught  the  land  from  weary  wars  to  cease. 

Whose  footsteps  Bladud  following,  in  arts 

ExcelPd  at  Athens  all  the  learned  preace, 

From  whence  he  brought  them  to  these  savage  parts. 

And  with  sweet  science  mollified  their  stubborn  hearts. 

XXVI. 

Eusample  of  his  wondrous  faculty, 

Behold  the  boiling  baths  at  Cairbadon, 

Which  seethe  with  secret  fire  eternally. 

And  in  their  entrails,  full  of  quick  brimstone, 

Nourish  the  flames  which  they  are  warm'd  upon, 

That  to  their  people  wealth  they  forth  do  well, 

And  health  to  every  foreign  nation  : 

Yet  he  at  last,  contending  to  excel 

The  reach  of  men,  through  flight  into  fond  mischief  fell. 


i  (jreen  shield.  -  Keel  shield. 


TEE    FAERIE  QVEEME.  61 

XXVII. 

Next  him  king  Leyr  '  in  happy  peace  long  reign'd, 

Hut  had  no  issue  male  him  to  succeed, 

But  three  fair  daughters,  which  were  well  uptrain'd 

In  all  that  seemed  fit  for  kingly  seed  ; 

Mongst  whom  his  realm  he  equally  decreed 

To  have  divided  :  tho.  when  feeble  age 

Nigh  to  his  utmost  date  he  saw  proceed, 

He  call'd  his  daughters,  and  with  speeches  sage 

Inquired,  which  of  them  most  did  love  her  parentage. 

KXVIII. 

The  eldest  Gonorill  gun  to  protest, 

That  she  much  more  than  her  own  life  him  loved  ; 

And  Regan  greater  love  to  him  profess'd 

Than  all  the  world,  whenever  it  were  proved  ; 

But  Cordeill  said  she  loved  him  as  behoved  : 

Whose  simple  answer,  wanting  colours  fair 

To  paint  it  forth,  him  to  displeasance  mov'd, 

That  in  his  crown  he  counted  her  no  heir. 

But  twixt  the  other  twain  his  kingdom  whole  did  share. 

XXIX. 

So  wedded  th'  one  to  Maglan  king  of  Scots, 

And  th'  other  to  the  king  of  Cambria, 

And  twixt  them  shared  his  realm  by  equal  lots ; 

But,  without  dow'r,  the  wise  Cordelia 

Was  sent  to  A-ganip  of  Celtica : 

Their  aged  sire,  thus  easrd  of  his  crown, 

A  private  life  led  in  Albania 

With  Gonorill,  long  had  in  great  renown. 

That  nought  him  grieved  to  been  from  rule  deposed  down. 


1  Lear. 


62  BRITISH  FOLK-LORE. 

XXX. 

But  true  it  is  that  when  the  oil  is  spent 

The  light  goes  out,  and  wick  is  thrown  away ; 

So,  when  he  had  resign'd  his  regiment, 

His  daughter  gan  despise  his  drooping  day, 

And  weary  wax  of  his  continual  stay  : 

Tho  to  his  daughter  Regan  he  repair'd, 

Who  him  at  first  well  used  every  way  ; 

But,  when  of  his  departure  she  despair'd, 

Her  bounty  she  abated,  and  his  cheer  empair'd. 

XXXI. 

The  wretched  man  gan  then  avise  too  late, 

That  love  is  not  where  most  it  is  profest ; 

Too  truly  tried  in  his  extremest  state  ! 

At  last,  resolved  likewise  to  prove  the  rest, 

He  to  Cordelia  himself  addrest, 

Who  with  entire  affection  him  received, 

As  for  her  sire  and  king  her  seemed  best ; 

And  after  all  an  army  strong  she  leaved, 

To  war  on  those  which  him  had  of  his  realm  bereaved. 

XXXII. 

So  to  his  crown  she  him  restored  again ; 

In  which  he  died,  made  ripe  for  death  by  eld, 

And  after  will'd  it  should  to  her  remain  : 

AVho  peaceably  the  same  long  time  did  weld, 

And  all  men's  hearts  in  due  obedience  held ; 

Till  that  her  sister's  children,  woxen  strong, 

Through  proud  ambition  against  her  rebell'd, 

And  overcommen  kept  in  prison  long, 

Till  weary  of  that  wretched  life  herself  she  hong. 

XXXIII. 

Then  gan  the  bloody  brethren  both  to  reign  ; 
But  fierce  Cundah  gan  shortly  to  envy 


THE  FAERIE  QUEENE.  03 

His  brother  Morgan,  prick'd  with  proud  disdain, 
To  have  a  peer  in  part  of  sovereignty ; 
And,  kindling  coals  of  cruel  enmity, 
Eaised  war,  and  him  in  battle  overthrew : 
Whence  as  he  to  these  woody  hills  did  fly, 
Which  hight  of  him  Glamorgan,  there  him  slew : 
Then  did  he  reign  alone,  when  he  none  equal  knew. 

xxxiv. 

His  son  Rivall'  his  dead  room  did  supply ; 

In  whose  sad  time  blood  did  from  heaven  rain, 

Next  great  Gurgustus,  then  fair  Cascily, 

In  constant  peace  their  kingdoms  did  contain, 

After  whom  Lago  and  Kinmarke  did  reign, 

And  Gorgobud,  till  far  in  years  he  grew  : 

Then  his  ambitious  sons  unto  them  twain 

Arraught  the  rule,  and  from  their  father  drew ; 

Stout  Ferrex  and  stern  Porrex  him  in  prison  threw. 

xxxv. 

But  0 !  the  greedy  thirst  of  royal  crown, 
That  knows  no  kindred,  nor  regards  no  right, 
Stirr'd  Porrex  up  to  put  his  brother  down, 
Who,  unto  him  assembling  foreign  might, 
Made  war  on  him,  and  fell  himself  in  fight : 
Whose  deutli  f  avenge,  his  mother  merciless, 
Most  merciless  of  women,  Wyden  hight, 
Hi t  other  son  last  sleeping  did  oppress, 
And  with  most  cruel  hand  him  murdYed  pitiless. 

\  x  \  v  i . 

Eere  ended  Brutus'  sacred  progeny, 

Which  had  BeveD  hundred  years  this  sceptre  borne, 

With  high  renown  and  -real  felicity: 

The  noble  branch  from  (IT  antique  stock  was  torn 


64  BRITISH    FOLK-LORE. 

Through  discord,  and  the  royal  throne  forlorn. 
Thenceforth  this  realm  was  into  factions  rent, 
Whilest  each  of  Brutus  boasted  to  be  born, 
That  in  the  end  was  left  no  moniment 
Of  Brutus,  nor  of  Britons'  glory  ancient. 

XXXVIJ. 

Then  up  arose  a  man  of  matchless  might, 

And  wondrous  wit  to  manage  high  affairs, 

Who,  stirr'd  with  pity  of  the  stressed  plight 

Of  this  sad  realm,  cut  into  sundry  shares 

By  such  as  claim'd  themselves  Brute's  rightful  heirs, 

Gather'd  the  princes  of  the  people  loose 

To  taken  counsel  of  their  common  cares ; 

Who,  with  his  wisdom  won,  him  straight  did  choose 

Their  king,  and  swore  him  fealty  to  win  or  lose. 

XXXVIII. 

Then  made  he  head  against  his  enemies, 

And  Ymner  slew  of  Logris  miscreate ; 

Then  Ruddoc  and  proud  Stater,  both  allies, 

This  of  Albany  newly  nominate, 

And  that  of  Cambry  king  confirmed  late, 

He  overthrew  through  his  own  valiance, 

Whose  countries  he  reduced  to  quiet  state, 

And  shortly  brought  to  civil  governance, 

Now  one,  which  erst  were  many  made  through  variance. 

xxxix. 
Then  made  he  sacred  laws,  which  some  men  say 
Were  unto  him  reveal'd  in  vision  ; 
By  which  he  freed  the  traveller's  high-way, 
The  church's  part,  and  ploughman's  portion. 
Restraining  stealth  and  strong  extortion  : 
The  gracious  Numa  of  Grea|  Brittany. 
For,  till  his  days,  the  chief  dominion 


THE  FAERIE  QVEEJsE.  6S 

By  strength  was  wielded  without  policy  : 
Therefore  he  first  wore  crown  of  gold  for  dignity. 

XL. 

Donwallo  died  (for  what  may  live  for  aye?), 

And  left  two  sons,  of  peerless  prowess  both, 

That  sacked  Rome  too  dearly  did  assay, 

The  recompense  of  their  perjured  oath  ; 

And  ransack'd  Greece  well  tried,  when  they  were  wroth, 

Besides  subjected  France  and  Germany, 

Which  yet  their  praises  speak,  all  be  they  loth, 

And  inly  tremble  at  the  memory 

Of  Brennus  and  Belinus,  kings  of  Brittany. 

XLI. 

Next  them  did  Gurgunt,  great  Belinus'  son, 

In  rule  succeed,  and  eke  in  father's  praise  ; 

He  Easterland  subdued,  and  Denmark  won, 

And  of  them  both  did  foy  and  tribute  raise, 

The  which  was  due  in  his  dead  father's  days: 

llr  also  gave  to  fugitives  of  Spain, 

Whom  he  at  sea  found  wand'ring  from  their  ways, 

A  seat  in  Ireland  safely  to  rernain, 

Which  they  should  hold  of  him  as  subject  to  Britain. 

XI, II. 

After  him  reigned  Guitheline  his  heir, 

The  justest  man  and  truest  in  his  days, 

Who  had  to  wife  Dame  Mertia  the  fair, 

A  woman  worthy  of  immortal  praise, 

Which  for  this  realm  found  many  goodly  lays, 

And  wholesome  statute-  to  her  husband  brought: 

Her  many  deem'd  to  have  been  of  the  Pays, 

As  was  Eegerie,  that  Numa'  taught: 

Those  yet  of  her  be  Mercian  laws  both  named  and  thought. 


1  Numa,  a  legendary  king  of  Rome. 
FOLK-LORE     5 


BRITISH  FOLK-IORE. 

XLIII. 

Her  son  Sifillus  after  her  did  reign  ; 

And  then  Kimarus ;  and  then  Danius  : 

Next  whom  Morindus  did  the  crown  sustain ; 

Who,  had  he  not  with  wrath  outrageous 

And  cruel  rancour  dimm'd  his  valorous 

And  mighty  deeds,  should  matched  have  the  best 

As  well  in  that  same  field  victorious 

Against  the  foreign  Morands  he  exprest : 

Yet  lives  his  memory,  though  carcass  sleep  in  rest. 

XLIV. 

Five  sons  he  left  begotten  of  one  wife, 
All  which  successively  by  turns  did  reign  : 
First  Gorboman,  a  man  of  virtuous  life ; 
Next  Archigald,  who  for  his  proud  disdain 
Deposed  was  from  princedom  sovereign, 
And  piteous  Elidure  put  in  his  stead  ; 
Who  shortly  it  to  him  restored  again, 
Till  by  his  death  he  it  recovered  ; 
But  Peridure  and  Vigent  him  disthronized  : 

XLV. 

In  wretched  prison  long  he  did  remain, 
Till  they  out-reigned  had  their  utmost  date, 
And  then  therein  reseized  was  again, 
And  ruled  long  with  honourable  state, 
Till  he  surrend'red  realm  and  life  to  fate. 
Then  all  the  sons  of  these  five  brethren  reign'd 
By  due  success'  and  all  their  nephews  late  ; 
Even  thrice  eleven  descents  the  crown  retain'd, 
Till  aged  Hely  by  due  heritage  it  gain'd. 

XLVI. 

He  had  two  sons,  whose  eldest,  called  Lud, 
Left  of  his  life  most  famous  memory, 


THE  FAERIE  QUEEJVE.  67 

And  endless  monuments  of  his  great  good  ; 

The  ruin'd  wall  he  did  reaedify 

Of  Troynovant,  'gainst  force  of  enemy, 

And  built  that  gate  which  of  his  name  is  hight, 

By  which  he  lies  entombed  solemnly  : 

He  left  two  sons,  too  young  to  rule  aright, 

Androgens  and  Tenanting,  pictures  of  his  might. 

XLVII. 

Whilst  they  were  young,  Cassibalane  their  erne 
Was  by  the  people  chosen  in  their  stead, 
Who  on  him  took  the  royal  diadem, 
And  goodly  well  long  time  it  governed  ; 
Till  the  proud  Romans  him  disquieted, 
And  warlike  Caesar,  tempted  with  the  name 
Of  this  sweet  island  never  conquered, 
And  envying  the  Britons'  blazed  fame, 
(0  hideous  hunger  of  dominion  !)  hither  came. 

XLVin. 
Yet  twice  they  \\c\-c  repulsed  back  again, 
And  twice  renforced  back  to  their  ships  to  fly  ; 
The  whiles  with  blood  they  all  the  shore  did  stain, 
And  the  gray  ocean  into  purple  dye. 
Ne  had  they  footing  found  at  last  perdy, 
Had  not  Androgens,  false  to  native  soil, 
And  envious  of  uncle's  sovereignty,    • 
Betray'd  his  country  unto  foreign  spoil. 
Nought  else  but  treason  from  the  first  this  land  did  foil. 

XLIX. 

So  by  hi  in  Cesar  got  the  victory, 

Through  greal  bloodshed  ami  many  a  sad  assay, 

In  which  himself  was  charged  heavily 

Of  hardy  Nennius,  whom  be  yet  did  slay, 

But  lost  his  sword,  yet  to  be  seen  this  day. 


68  BRITISH  FOLK-LORE. 

Thenceforth  this  land  was  tributary  made 

T'  ambitious  Rome,  and  did  their  rule  obey, 

Till  Arthur  all  that  reckoning  defray'd  : 

Yet  oft  the  Briton  kings  against  them  strongly  sway'd. 

L. 

Next  him  Tenantius  reign'd,  then  Kimbeline,1 
What  time  th'  Eternal  Lord  in  fleshly  slime 
Enwombed  was,  from  wretched  Adam's  line 
To  purge  away  the  guilt  of  sinful  crime. 
0  joyous  memory  of  happy  time, 
That  heavenly  grace  so  plenteously  disjday'd  ! 
0  too  high  ditty  for  my  simple  rhyme  ! 
Soon  after  this  the  Romans  him  warray'd  ; 
For  that  their  tribute  he  refused  to  let  be  paid. 

LI. 

Good  Claudius,  that  next  was  emperor, 

An  army  brought,  and  with  him  battle  fought, 

In  which  the  king  was  by  a  treachetour 8 

Disguised  slain,  ere  any  thereof  thought : 

Yet  ceased  not  the  bloody  fight  for  ought : 

For  Arvirage  his  brother's  place  supplied, 

Both  in  his  arms  and  crown,  and  by  that  draught 

Did  drive  the  Romans  to  the  weaker  side, 

That  they  to  peace  agreed.     So  all  was  pacified. 

LII. 

Was  never  king  more  highly  magnified, 
Nor  dread  of  Romans,  than  was  Arvirage  : 
For  which  the  emperor  to  him  allied 
His  daughter  Genuiss'  in  marriage  : 
Yet  shortly  he  renounced  the  vassalage 
Of  Rome  again,  who  hither  hast'ly  sent 
Vespasian,  that  with  great  spoil  and  rage 

1  Cymbeline.  s  Traitor. 


THE  FAERIE  QUEENE.  69 

Forwasted  all,  till  Genuissa  gent 

Persuaded  him  to  cease,  and  her  lord  to  relent. 

LIII. 

He  died;  and  him  succeed'd  Marius, 

Who  joy'd  his  days  in  great  tranquillity. 

Then  Coyll,  and  after  him  good  Lucius, 

That  first  received  Christianity, 

The  sacred  pledge  of  Christ's  Evangely. 

Yet  true  it  is,  that  long  before  that  day 

Hither  came  Joseph  of  Arimathy, 

Who  brought  with  him  the  Holy  Grail  (they  say), 

And  preach'd  the  truth ;  but  since  it  greatly  did  decay. 

LIV. 

This  good  king  shortly  without  issue  died, 
Whereof  great  trouble  in  the  kingdom  grew, 
That  did  herself  in  sundry  parts  divide, 
And  with  her  pow'r  her  own  self  overthrew, 
Whilst  Romans  daily  did  the  weak  subdue  : 
Which  seeing,  stout  Bunduca1  up  arose, 
And  taking  arms  the  Britons  to  her  drew; 
With  whom  .-he  marched  straight  against  her  foes, 
And  them  unwares  beside  the  Severn  did  enclose. 

LV. 

There  she  with  them  a  cruel  battle  tried, 
Not  with  so  good  success  as  she  deserved, 
By  reason  that  the  captains  on  her  side, 
Corrupted  by  Paulinus,  from  her  swerved ; 

ach  as  were  bhrough  former  II  ight  preserved, 
Gath'ring  again  her  host  she  did  renew, 
And  with  fresh  courage  ou  the  victor  served : 
But  being  all  defeated,  save  a  few, 
Rather  than  fly,  <>v  \>r  captived,  herself  she  slew. 

1  Boadicea. 


70  BRITISH  FOLK-LOBE. 

LVI. 

0  famous  monument  of  women's  praise ! 

Matchable  either  to  Semiramis, 

Whom  antique  history  so  high  doth  raise, 

Or  to  Hypsiphyl',  or  to  Thomyris ; 

Her  host  two  hundred  thousand  numb'red  is, 

Who,  whiles  good  fortune  favoured  her  might, 

Triumphed  oft  against  her  enemies ; 

And  yet,  though  overcome  in  hapless  fight, 

She  triumphed  on  death,  in  enemies'  despite. 

LVII. 

Her  relics  Fulgent  having  gathered, 
Fought  with  Severus,  and  him  overthrew ; 
Yet  in  the  chase  was  slain  of  them  that  fled : 
So  made  them  victors  whom  he  did  subdue. 
Then  gan  Oarausius  tyrannise  anew, 
And  gainst  the  Eomans  bent  their  proper  pow'r ; 
But  him  Allectus  treacherously  slew, 
And  took  on  him  the  robe  of  emperor ; 
Nathless  the  same  enjoyed  but  short  happy  hour. 

LVIII. 

For  Asclepiodate  him  overcame, 

And  left  inglorious  on  the  vanquished  plain, 

Without  or  robe  or  rag  to  hide  his  shame : 

Then  afterwards  he  in  his  stead  did  reign ; 

But  shortly  was  by  Coyll  in  battle  slain ; 

Who  after  long  debate,  since  Lucius'  time, 

Was  of  the  Britons  first  crown'd  sovereign : 

Then  gan  this  realm  renew  her  passed  prime  : 

He  of  his  name  Coylchester  built  of  stone  and  lime. 

LIX. 

Which  when  the  Komans  heard,  they  hither  sent 
Constantius,  a  man  of  mickle  might, 


THE  FAERIE  QUEENE. 

With  whom  king  Coyll 1  made  ail  agreement, 

And  to  him  gave  for  wife  his  daughter  bright, 

Fair  Helena,  the  fairest  living  wight, 

Who  in  all  goodly  thewes  and  goodly  praise 

Did  far  excel,  but  was  most  famous  hight 

For  skill  in  music  of  all  in  her  days, 

As  well  in  curious  instruments  as  cunning  lays : 

LX. 

Of  whom  he  did  great  Constantine  beget, 

Who  afterward  was  Emperor  of  Kome ; 

To  which  whiles  absent  he  his  mind  did  set. 

Octavius  here  leapt  into  his  room, 

And  it  usurped  by  unrighteous  doom  : 

But  he  his  title  justified  by  might, 

Slaying  Traherne,  and  having  overcome 

The  Roman  legion  in  dreadful  fight : 

So  settled  he  his  kingdom,  and  confirm 'd  his  right 

i.  \i. 

But,  wanting  issue  male,  his  daughter  dear 

He  gave  in  wedlock  to  Maximian, 

And  him  with  her  made  of  his  kingdom  heir, 

Who  soon  by  means  thereof  the  empire  wan, 

Till  murd'red  by  the  friends  of  Gratian. 

Then  gan  the  Huns  and  Picts  invade  this  land, 

During  the  reign  of  Maximinian  ; 

Who  dying  left  none  heir  them  to  withstand  ; 

But  that  they  overran  all  parts  with  easy  hand. 

LXII. 

The  weary  Britons,  whose  war-able  youth 
Waa  by  Maximian  lately  led  away, 
With  wretched  miseries  and  woful  ruth 
Were  to  those  pagans  made  an  open  prey, 

1  ('.„•] 


72  BRITISH  FOLK-LORE. 

And  daily  spectacle  of  sad  decay : 

Whom  Koman  wars,  which  now  four  hundred  years 

And  more  had  wasted,  could  no  wit  dismay; 

Till  by  consent  of  Commons  and  of  Peers, 

They  crown'd  the  second  Constantine  with  joyous  tears. 

LXI1I. 

Who  having  oft  in  battle  vanquished 

Those  spoilful  Picts,  and  swarming  Easterlings, 

Long  time  in  peace  his  realm  established, 

Yet  oft  annoy'd  with  sundry  bordragings 

Of  neighbour  Scots,  and  foreign  scatterlings 

With  which  the  world  did  in  those  days  abound  : 

Which  to  outbar  with  painful  pyonings 

From  sea  to  sea  he  heap'd  a  mighty  mound, 

Which  from  Alcluid  to  Pan  welt  did  that  border  bound. 

LXIV. 

Three  sons  he  dying  left,  all  under  age, 
By  means  whereof  their  uncle  Vortigere 1 
Usurp'd  the  crown  during  their  pupilage ; 
Which  th'  infants'  tutors  gathering  to  fear, 
Them  closely  into  Armoric  did  bear  : 
For  dread  of  whom,  and  for  those  Picts  annoys, 
He  sent  to  Germany  strange  aid  to  rear ; 
From  whence  eftsoones  arrived  here  three  hoys 
Of  Saxons,  whom  he  for  his  safety  employs. 

LXV. 

Two  brethren  were  their  capitains,  which  hight 
Hengist  and  Horsus,3  well  approved  in  war, 
And  both  of  them  men  of  renowned  might ; 
Who  making  vantage  of  their  civil  jar, 
And  of  those  foreigners  which  came  from  far, 
Grew  great,  and  got  large  portions  of  land, 
That  in  the  realm  ere  long  they  stronger  are 

i  Vortierern.  a  Tlorsa. 


THE  FAERIE  QUEENE.  73 

Than  they  which  sought  at  first  their  helping  hand, 
And  Vortiger  enforced  the  kingdom  to  aband. 

LXVI. 

But,  by  the  help  of  Vortimere  his  son, 

He  is  affain  unto  his  rule  restored  : 

And  Hengist,  seeming  sad  for  that  was  done, 

Received  is  to  grace  and  new  accord, 

Through  his  fair  daughter's  face  and  flatt'ring  word. 

Soon  after  which,  three  hundred  lords  he  slew 

Of  British  blood,  all  sitting  at  his  board  ; 

Whose  doleful  monuments  who  list  to  rue, 

Th'  eternal  marks  of  treason  may  at  Stonehenge  view. 

LXVII. 

By  this  the  sons  of  Constantine,  which  fled, 
Ambrose  and  Uther,  did  ripe  years  attain, 
And,  here  arriving,  strongly  challeng'd 
The  crown  which  Vortiger  did  long  detain  : 
Who,  flying  from  his  guilt,  by  them  was  slain; 
And  Hengist  eke  soon  brought  to  shameful  death. 
Thenceforth  Aurelius  peaceably  did  reign, 
Till  that  through  poison  stopped  was  his  breath ; 
So  now  entombed  lies  at  Stonehenge  by  the  heath. 


Book  I.— <  Ianto  XI. 

The  knight  with  thai  old  Dragon  fights 
Two  Mays  incessantly  : 

The  third,  him  overthrows  :  and  gains 
Most  glorious  victory.1 

I. 

High  time  now  gan  it  wax  for  Una  fair 
To  think  of  those  her  captive  parents  dear, 

1  Almost  every  one  is  familiar  with  tin-  pictures  of  St.  George  Blaying  the 
Dragon.    This  is  the  conflict  here  described,  for  the  Red  Cross  Knight  repre 
sent-,  the  patron  Bainl  of  England.    Spenser  has  here  woven  into  his  narrative 
a  very  ancient  legend,  dating  from  the  early  <  hristian  centime  .  and  brought 


74  BRITISH  FOLK-LORE. 

And  their  forwasted  kingdom  to  repair : 

Whereto  whenas  they  now  approached  near, 

With  hearty  words  her  knight  she  gan  to  cheer, 

And  in  her  modest  manner  thus  bespake  : 

"  Dear  knight,  as  dear  as  ever  knight  was  dear, 

That  all  these  sorrows  suffer  for  my  sake, 

Oh,  Heaven  behold  the  tedious  toil  ye  for  me  take 


ii. 
"  Now  are  we  come  unto  my  native  soil, 
And  to  the  place  where  all  our  perils  dwell ; 
Here  haunts  that  fiend,  and  does  his  daily  spoil ; 
Therefore  henceforth  be  at  your  keeping  well, 
And  ever  ready  for  your  foeman  fell : 
The  spark  of  noble  courage  now  awake, 
And  strive  your  excellent  self  to  excel : 
That  shall  ye  evermore  renowned  make 
Above  all  knights  on  earth,  that  battle  undertake." 

in. 
And  pointing  forth,  "  Lo  !  yonder  is,"  said  she, 
"  The  brazen  tow'r,  in  which  my  parents  dear 
For  dread  of  that  huge  fiend  imprison'd  be ; 
Whom  I  from  far  see  on  the  walls  appear, 
Whose  sight  my  feeble  soul  doth  greatly  cheer ; 
And  on  the  top  of  all  I  do  espy 
The  watchman  waiting  tidings  glad  to  hear, 
That,  0  my  parents,  might  I  happily 
Unto  you  bring,  to  ease  you  of  your  misery ! " 

IV. 

With  that  they  heard  a  roaring,  hideous  sound, 
That  all  the  air  with  terror  filled  wide, 


from  the  far  East ;  but  Spenser  makes  no  pretense  of  consistency  as  to  time  or 
place  of  the  events  described.  The  story  is  found  in  another  form  in  Percy's 
"Reliques."  The  real  St.  George  lived  in  Asia  Minor,  in  the  fourth  century. 
The  Dragon  is  said  to  have  been  slain  in  Libya  (Africa). 


THE  FAERIE  QUEENE.  75 

And  seem'd  uneath  to  shake  the  steadfast  ground. 

Eftsoones  that  dreadful  Dragon  they  espied, 

Where  stretch'd  he  lay  upon  the  sunny  side 

Of  a  great  hill,  himself  like  a  great  hill ; 

But,  all  so  soon  as  he  from  far  descried 

Those  glist'ring  arms  that  heaven  with  light  did  fill, 

He  roused  himself  full  blithe,  and  hast'ned  them  until. 

v. 

Then  bade  the  knight  his  lady  yede  aloof, 

And  to  an  hill  herself  withdraw  aside : 

From  whence  she  might  behold  that  battle's  proof, 

And  eke  be  safe  from  danger  far  descried  : 

She  him  obey'd,  and  turn'd  a  little  wide. — 

Now,  0  thou  sacred  Muse,  most  learned  dame, 

Fair  Imp  of  Phoebus  and  his  aged  bride, 

The  nurse  of  time  and  everlasting  fame, 

That  warlike  hands  ennoblest  with  immortal  name ; 

VI. 

0,  gently  come  into  my  feeble  breast, 

Come  gently ;  but  not  wjth  that  mighty  rage, 

Wherewith  the  martial  troups  thou  dost  infest, 

And  hearts  of  great  heroes  dost  enrage, 

That  nought  their  kindled  courage  may  assuage: 

Soon  as  thy  dreadful  trump  begins  to  sound 

The  god  of  war  with  his  fierce  equipage 

Thou  dost  awake,  Bleep  never  he  so  sound; 

And  scared  nations  dost  witli  horror  stern  astound. 

VII. 

Pair  goddess,  lav  that  furious  fit  aside, 
Till  I  of  wars  and  bloody  Mars  do  sing, 

And  Briton  fields  with  Saracen  blood  bedyed, 
Twixt  that  greal  Faerie  Queene,  ami  Paynim  king, 
That  with  their  horror  heaven  and  earth  did  ring; 


76  BRITISH  FOLK-LORE. 

A  work  of  labour  long  and  endless  praise ; 

But  now  a  while  let  down  that  haughty  string 

And  to  my  tunes  thy  second  tenor  raise, 

That  I  this  man  of  God  his  godly  arms  may  blaze. 

VIII. 

By  this,  the  dreadful  beast  drew  nigh  to  hand, 

Half  flying  and  half  footing  in  his  haste, 

That  with  his  largeness  measured  much  land, 

And  made  wide  shadow  under  his  huge  waste ; 

As  mountain  doth  the  valley  overcast. 

Approaching  nigh,  he  reared  high  afore 

His  body  monstrous,  horrible,  and  vast ; 

Which,  to  increase  his  wondrous  greatness  more, 

Was  swoll'n  with  wrath  and  poison,  and  with  bloody  gore ; 

IX. 

And  over  all  with  brazen  scales  was  arm'd, 

Like  plated  coat  of  steel,  so  couched  near 

That  nought  mote  pierce ;  ne  might  his  corse  be  harm'd 

With  dint  of  sword,  nor  push  of  pointed  spear : 

Which,  as  an  eagle,  seeing  prey  appear, 

His  aery  plumes  doth  rouse  full  rudely  dight ; 

So  shaked  he,  that  horror  was  to  hear : 

For,  as  the  clashing  of  an  armour  bright, 

Such  noise  his  roused  scales  did  send  unto  the  knight. 

x. 

His  flaggy  wings,  when  forth  he  did  display, 

Were  like  two  sails,  in  which  the  hollow  wind 

Is  gather'd  full,  and  worketh  speedy  way : 

And  eke  the  pens,  that  did  his  pinions  bind, 

Were  like  main-yards  with  flying  canvas  lined  ; 

With  which  whenas  him  lift  the  air  to  beat, 

And  there  by  force  unwonted  passage  find, 

The  clouds  before  him  fled  for  terror  great, 

And  all  the  heavens  stood  still  amazed  with  his  threat. 


THE  FAERIE  QUEEJfE.  77 

XI. 

His  huge  long  tail,  wound  up  in  hundred  folds, 

Does  overspread  his  long  brass-scaly  back, 

Whose  wreathed  boughts  whenever  he  unfolds, 

And  thick-entangled  knots  adown  does  slack, 

Bespotted  as  with  shields  of  red  and  black, 

It  sweepeth  all  the  land  behind  him  far, 

And  of  three  furlongs  does  but  little  lack  ; 

And  at  the  point  two  stings  infixed  are, 

Both  deadly  sharp,  that  sharpest  steel  exceeden  far. 

XII. 

But  stings  and  sharpest  steel  did  far  exceed 
The  sharpness  of  his  cruel  rending  claws : 
Dead  was  it  sure,  as  sure  as  death  indeed, 
Whatever  thing  does  touch  his  ravenous  paws, 
Or  what  within  his  reach  he  ever  draws. 
But  his  most  hideous  head  my  tongue  to  tell 
Does  tremble;  for  his  deep  devouring  jaws 
Wide  gaped,  like  the  grisly  mouth  of  hell, 
Through  which  into  his  dark  abyss  all  ravin  fell. 

xfii. 

And,  that  more  wondrous  was,  in  either  jaw 

Three  ranks  of  iron  teeth  enrang^d  were, 

In  which  yet  trickling  blood,  and  gobbets  raw, 

Of  late  devoured  bodies  did  appear; 

That  sight  thereof  bred  cold  congealed  fear: 

Which  to  increase,  and  all  at  once  to  kill, 

A  cloud  of  smothering  smoke,  and  sulphur  scar, 

Out  of  his  stinking  gorge  forth  steamed  still, 

That  all  the  air  ahoiit  with  smoke  and  stench  did  fdl. 

\iv. 
Mi    Mazing  eyes,  like  two  brighi  shining  shields, 
Did  burn  with  wrath   and  sparkled  living  lire: 


78  BRITISH  FOLK-LORE. 

As  two  broad  beacons,  set  in  open  fields, 

Sent  forth  their  flames  far  off  to  every  shire, 

And  warning  give,  that  enemies  conspire 

With  fire  and  sword  the  region  to  invade ; 

So  flamed  his  eyne  with  rage  and  rancorous  ire : 

But  far  within,  as  in  a  hollow  glade, 

Those  glaring  lamps  were  set,  that  made  a  dreadful  shade. 

xv. 

So  dreadfully  he  towards  him  did  pass, 

Forelifting  up  aloft  his  speckled  breast, 

And  often  bounding  on  the  bruised  grass, 

As  for  great  joyaunce  of  his  new  come  guest. 

Ef tsoones  he  gan  advance  his  haughty  crest ; 

As  chafed  boar  his  bristles  doth  uprear ; 

And  shook  his  scales  to  battle  ready  drest, 

(That  made  the  Eedcross  knight  nigh  quake  for  fear,) 

As  bidding  bold  defiance  to  his  foeman  near. 

XVI. 

The  knight  gan  fairly  couch  his  steady  spear, 

And  fiercely  ran  at  him  with  rigorous  might : 

The  pointed  steel  arriving  rudely  there, 

His  harder  hide  would  neither  pierce  nor  bite, 

But,  glancing  by,  forth  passed  forward  right : 

Yet,  sore  amoved  with  so  puissant  push, 

The  wrathful  beast  about  him  turned  light, 

And  him  so  rudely,  passing  by,  did  brush 

With  his  long  tail,  that  horse  and  man  to  ground  did  rush. 

XVII. 

Both  horse  and  man  up  lightly  rose  again, 
And  fresh  encounter  towards  him  addrest ; 
But  th'  idle  stroke  yet  back  recoil'd  in  vain, 
And  found  no  place  his  deadly  point  to  rest. 
Exceeding  rage  enflamed  the  furious  beast, 


THE  FAERIE  QUEENE.  79 

To  be  avenged  of  so  great  despite ; 

For  never  felt  his  impierceable  breast 

So  wondrous  force  from  hand  of  living  wight : 

Yet  had  he  proved  the  pow'r  of  many  a  puissant  knight. 

XVIII. 

Then,  with  his  waving  wings  displayed  wide, 

Himself  up  high  he  lifted  from  the  ground, 

And  with  strong  flight  did  forcibly  divide 

The  yielding  air,  which  nigh  too  feeble  found 

Her  flitting  parts,  and  element  unsound, 

To  bear  so  great  a  weight :  He,  cutting  away 

With  his  broad  sails,  about  him  soared  round, 

At  last,  low  stooping  with  unwieldly  sway, 

Snatch'd  up  both  horse  and  man,  to  bear  them  quite  away. 

six. 

Long  he  them  bore  above  the  subject  plain, 

So  far  as  yewen  bow  a  shaft  may  send ; 

Till  struggling  strong  did  him  at  last  constrain 

To  let  them  down  before  his  flightcs  end  : 

As 'haggard  hawk,  presuming  to  contend 

With  hardy  fowl  above  his  able  might, 

His  weary  pounces  all  in  vain  doth  spend 

To  truss  the  prey  too  heavy  for  his  flight ; 

Which  coming  down  to  ground,  does  free  itself  by  fight. 

xx. 
He  so  disseized  of  his  gripping  gross, 
The  knight  his  thrillant  spear  again  assay'd 
In  his  brass-plated  body  to  embosse, 
And  three  men's  strength  unto  the  stroke  he  aid  ; 
Wherewith  the  still'  beam  quaked,  as  afraid, 
And  glancing  from  his  scaly  neck  did  glide 
Close  under  his  left  wing,  then  broad  display  M  : 
The  piercing  steel  there  wrought  a  wound  full  wide, 
That  with  the  imcouth  smart  the  monster  loudly  cried. 


80  BRITISH  FOLK-IORE. 

XXI. 

He  cried,  as  raging  seas  are  wont  to  roar, 

When  wintry  storm  his  wrathful  wreck  does  threat ; 

The  rolling  billows  beat  the  ragged  shore, 

As  they  the  earth  would  shoulder  from  her  seat ; 

And  greedy  gulf  does  gape,  as  he  would  eat 

His  neighbour  element  in  his  revenge  : 

Then  gin  the  blust'ring  brethren  boldly  threat 

To  move  the  world  from  off  his  steadfast  henge, 

And  boist'rous  battle  make,  each  other  to  avenge. 

XXII. 

The  steely  head  stuck  fast  still  in  his  flesh, 

Till  with  his  cruel  claws-  he  snatch'd  the  wood, 

And  quite  asunder  broke  :  forth  flowed  fresh 

A  gushing  river  of  black  gory  blood, 

That  drowned  all  the  land,  whereon  he  stood  ; 

The  stream  thereof  would  drive  a  water-mill : 

Trebly  augmented  was  his  furious  mood 

With  bitter  sense  of  his  deep-rooted  ill, 

The  flames  of  fire  he  threw  forth  from  his  large  nostril. 

XXIII. 

His  hideous  tail  then  hurled  he  about, 
And  therewith  all  enwrapt  the  nimble  thighs 
Of  his  froth-foamy  steed,  whose  courage  stout, 
Striving  to  loose  the  knot  that  fast  him  ties, 
Himself  in  straiter  bands  too  rash  implyes, 
That  to  the  ground  he  is  perforce  constraint 
To  throw  his  rider ;  who  can  quickly  rise 
From  off  the  earth,  with  dirty  blood  distain'd, 
For  that  reproachful  fall  right  foully  he  disdain'd  ; 

XXIV. 

And  fiercely  took  his  trenchant  blade  in  hand, 
With  which  he  struck  so  furious  and  so  fell 


THE  FAERIE  QUEENE.  81 

That  nothing  seem'd  the  puissance  could  withstand  ; 

Upon  his  crest  the  hard'ned  iron  fell ; 

But  his  more  hard'ned  crest  was  arm'd  so  well, 

That  deeper  dint  therein  it  would  not  make ; 

Yet  so  extremely  did  the  buff  him  quell, 

That  from  thenceforth  he  shunn'd  the  like  to  take, 

But,  when  he  saw  them  come,  he  did  them  still  forsake. 

XXV. 

The  knight  was  wroth  to  see  his  stroke  beguiled, 
And  smote  again  with  more  outrageous  might ; 
But  back  again  the  sparkling  steel  recoilM, 
And  left  not  any  mark  where  it  did  light, 
As  if  in  adamant  rock  it  had  been  pight. 
The  beast,  impatient  of  his  smarting  wound, 
And  of  so  fierce  and  forcible  despite, 
Thought  with  his  wiugs  to  sty  above  the  ground; 
But  bis  late  wounded  wing  unserviceable  found. 

XXVI. 

Then,  full  of  grief  ami  anguish  vehement, 

He  loudly  bray'd,  thai  like  was  never  heard  : 

And  from  his  wide  devouring  oven  sent 

A  flake  of  fire,  that,  Hashing  jn  his  beard. 

Him  all  amazed,  and  almost  made  afeared  : 

'I'lic  scorching  flame  sore  singed  all  his  face, 

And  through  his  armour  all  his  body  sear'd, 

That  he  could  not  endure  so  cruel  case, 

But  thoughl  his  aiins  to  leave,  ami  helmet  to  unlace. 

XXVII. 

Not  that  greal  champion  of  the  antique  world 

Whom  famous  poets'  verse  so  much  doth  vaunt, 
And  hath  for  twelve  huge  labours  high  extoll'd, 
So  many  furies  and  sharp  fits  did  haunt, 
When  him  the  poison'd  garment  did  enchant, 

FOLK-LORE   6 


82  BRITISH  FOLK-LORE. 

With  Centaur's  blood  and  bloody  verses  charm'd ; 
As  did  this  knight  twelve  thousand  dolours  daunt, 
Whom  fiery  steel  now  burnt,  that  erst  him  arm'd ; 
That  erst  him  goodly  arm'd,  now  most  of  all  him  harm'd. 

XXVIII. 

Faint,  weary,  sore,  emboyled,  grieved,  brent, 

With  heat,  toil,  wounds,  arm's  smart,  and  inward  fire, 

That  never  man  such  mischiefs  did  torment ; 

Death  better  were ;  death  did  he  oft  desire ; 

But  death  will  never  come,  when  needs  require. 

Whom  so  dismay'd  when  that  his  foe  beheld, 

He  cast  to  suffer  him  no  more  respire, 

But  gan  his  sturdy  stern  about  to  weld, 

And  him  so  strongly  stroke,  that  to  the  ground  him  fell'd. 

XXIX. 

It  fortuned  (as  fair  it  then  befell), 
Behind  his  back,  unweeting  where  he  stood, 
Of  ancient  time  there  was  a  springing  well, 
From  which  fast  trickled  forth  a  silver  flood, 
Full  of  great  virtues,  and  for  med'cine  good  : 
Whylome,  before  that  cursed  Dragon  got 
That  happy  land,  and  all  with  innocent  blood 
Defiled  those  sacred  waves,  it  rightly  hot 
The  Well  of  Life;  ne  yet  his  virtues  had  forgot - 

XXX. 

For  unto  life  the  dead  it  could  restore, 

And  guilt  of  sinful  crimes  clean  wash  away ; 

Those,  that  with  sickness  were  infected  sore, 

It  could  recure  ;  and  aged  long  decay 

Benew,  as  one  were  born  that  very  day. 

Both  Silo  this,  and  Jordan,  did  excel, 

And  th'  English  Bath,  and  eke  the  German  Spa ; 

Ne  can  Cephise,  nor  Hebrus,  match  this  well ; 

Into  the  same  the  knight  back  overthrowen  fell. 


THE  FAERIE   QUEEjYE.  83 

XXXT. 

Now  gan  the  golden  Phoebus  for  to  steep 

His  fiery  face  in  billows  of  the  west, 

And  his  faint  steeds  wat'red  in  ocean  deep, 

Whiles  from  their  journal  labours  they  did  rest ; 

When  that  infernal  monster,  having  kest 

His  weary  foe  into  that  living  well, 

Can  high  advance  his  broad  discolour'd  breast 

Above  his  wonted  pitch,  with  countenance  fell, 

And  clapt  his  iron  wings,  as  victor  he  did  dwell. 

XXXII. 

Which  when  his  pensive  lady  saw  from  far, 

Great  woe  and  sorrow  did  her  soul  assay, 

As  weening  that  the  sad  end  of  the  war, 

And  gan  to  highest  God  entirely  pray 

That  feared  chance  from  her  to  turn  away; 

With  folded  hands,  and  knees  full  lowly  bent, 

All  night  she  watch'd  ;  ne  once  adown  would  lay 

Eer  dainty  limbs  in  her  sad  dreriment, 

But  praying  still  did  wake,  and  waking  did  lament. 

XXXIII. 

The  morrow  next  gan  early  to  appear, 
That  Titan  rose  to  run  his  daily  race; 
But  early,  ere  the  morrow  next  gan  rear 
Out  of  the  sea  fail'  Titan's  dewy  face, 
Uprose  the  gentle  virgin  from  her  place, 
And  looked  nil  about,  if  she  mighl  spy 
Her  loved  knight  to  move  his  manly  pace: 
For  she  had  greal  doubl  of  his  safety, 
Since  late  she  saw  him  fall  before  his  enemy. 

xxxiv. 
At  last  she  saw,  where  he  upstarted  brave 
Out  of  the  well  wherein  he  dreiiehed  lay: 


84  BRITISH  FOLK-LOBE. 

As  eagle,  fresh  out  of  the  ocean  wave, 

Where  he  hath  left  his  plumes  all  hoary  gray, 

And  deck'd  himself  with  feathers  youthly  gay, 

Like  eyas  hawk  up  mounts  unto  the  skies, 

His  newly-budded  pinions  to  assay, 

And  marvels  at  himself,  still  as  he  flies : 

So  new  this  new-born  knight  to  battle  new  did  risfi. 

xxxv. 
Whom  when  the  damned  fiend  so  fresh  did  spy, 
No  wonder  if  he  wond'red  at  the  sight, 
And  doubted  whether  his  late  enemy 
It  were,  or  other  new  supplied  knight. 
He  now,  to  prove  his  late-renewed  might, 
High  brandishing  his  bright  dew-burning  blade, 
Upon  his  crested  scalp  so  sore  did  smite, 
That  to  the  skull  a  yawning  wound  it  made  : 
The  deadly  dint  his  dulled  senses  all  dismay'd. 

XXXV!. 

I  wot  not,  whether  the  revenging  steel 

Were  hard'ned  with  that  holy  water  dew 

Wherein  he  fell ;  or  sharper  edge  did  feel ; 

Or  his  baptized  hands  now  greater  grew  ; 

Or  other  secret  virtue  did  ensue  ; 

Else  never  could  the  force  of  fleshly  arm, 

Ne  molten  metal,  in  his  blood  embrue  : 

For,  till  that  stownd,  could  never  wight  him  harm 

By  subtilty,  nor  slight,  nor  might,  nor  mighty  charm. 

XXXVII. 

The  cruel  wound  enraged  him  so  sore, 
That  loud  he  yelled  for  exceeding  pain  ; 
As  hundred  ramping  lions  seem'd  to  roar, 
Whom  ravenous  hunger  did  thereto  constrain. 
Then  gan  he  toss  aloft  his  stretched  train, 
And  therewith  scourge  the  buxom  air  so  sore, 


THE  FAERIE  QUEENE.  85 

That  to  his  force  to  yielden  it  was  faiu ; 

Ne  ought  his  sturdy  strokes  might  stand  afore, 

That  high  trees  overthrew,  and  rocks  in  pieces  tore  : 

XXXVIII. 

The  same  advancing  high  above  his  head, 

With  sharp  intended  sting  so  rude  him  smot, 

That  to  the  earth  him  drove,  as  stricken  dead  ; 

Ne  living  wight  would  have  him  life  behott : 

The  mortal  sting  his  angry  needle  shot 

Quite  through  his  shield,  and  in  his  shoulder  seized, 

Where  fast  it  stuck,  ne  would  thereout  be  got : 

The  grief  thereof  him  wondrous  sore  diseased, 

Ne  might  his  rankling  pain  with  patience  be  appeased ; 

xxxix. 

But  yet,  more  mindful  of  his  honour  dear 

Than  of  the  grievous  smart  which  did  him  wring, 

From  loathed  soil  he  can  him  lightly  rear, 

And  strove  to  loose  the  far  infixed  sting  : 

Which  when  in  vain  he  tried  with  struggling, 

Inflamed  with  wrath,  his'raging  blade  he  heft, 

And  struck  so  strongly,  that  the  knotty  string 

Of  his  huge  tail  he  quite  asunder  cleft ; 

Five  joints  thereof  he  hew'd,and  but  the  stump  him  left. 

XL. 

Hearl  cannol  think,  what  outrage  and  what  cries, 
With  foul  enfould'red  smoke  and  flashing  fire, 
The  hell-bred  beasl  threw  forth  unto  the  skies, 
Then  fraught  with  rancour,  and  engorged  ire, 
He  cast  at  once  him  to  avenge  for  all  ; 
And,  gathering  up  himself  oul  of  the  mire. 
With  his  uneven  wings  did  fiercely  fall 
Upon  his  sun-bright  shield,  and  gript  it  fast  withal. 


86  BRITISH  FOLK-LOBE. 

XLI. 

Much  was  the  man  encumb'red  with  his  hold, 
In  fear  to  lose  his  weapon  in  his  paw, 
Ne  wist  yet,  how  his  talons  to  unfold  ; 
Nor  harder  was  from  Cerberus'  greedy  jaw 
To  pluck  a  bone,  than  from  his  cruel  claw 
To  reave  by  strength  the  griped  gage  away  : 
Thrice  he  assay'd  it  from  his  foot  to  draw, 
And  thrice  in  vain  to  draw  it  did  assay ; 
It  booted  nought  to  think  to  rob  him  of  his  prey. 

XLII. 

Tho  when  he  saw  no  power  might  prevail, 

His  trusty  sword  he  call'd  to  his  last  aid, 

Wherewith  he  fiercely  did  his  foe  assail, 

And  double  blows  about  him  stoutly  laid, 

That  glancing  fire  out  of  the  iron  play'd, 

As  sparkles  from  the  anvil  used  to  fly, 

When  heavy  hammers  on  the  wedge  are  sway'd  ; 

Therewith  at  last  he  forced  him  to  untie 

One  of  his  grasping  feet,  him  to  defend  thereby. 

XLIII. 

The  other  foot,  fast  fixed  on  his  shield, 

Whenas  no  strength  nor  strokes  mote  him  constrain 

To  loose,  ne  yet  the  warlike  pledge  to  yield  ; 

He  smote  thereat  with  all  his  might  and  main, 

That  nought  so  wondrous  puissance  might  sustain  : 

Upon  the  joint  the  lucky  steel  did  light, 

And  made  such  way,  that  hew'd  it  quite  in  twain  ; 

The  paw  yet  missed  not  his  minish'd  might, 

But  hung  still  on  the  shield,  as  it  at  first  was  pight. 

XLIV. 

For  grief  thereof  and  devilish  despite, 
From  his  infernal  furnace  forth  he  threw 


THE  FAERIE  QVEEME.  87 

Huge  flames,  that  dimmed  all  the  heaven's  light, 

Enroll'd  in  duskish  smoke,  and  brimstone  blue  : 

As  burning  Etna,  from  his  boiling  stew 

Doth  belch  out  flames,  and  rocks  in  pieces  broke, 

And  ragged  ribs  of  mountain  molten  new, 

Enwrapt  in  coalblack  clouds  and  filthy  smoke, 

That  all  the  land  with  stench,  and  heaven  with  horror  choke. 

XLV. 

The  heat  whereof,  and  harmful  pestilence, 

So  sore  him  'noy'd,  that  forced  him  to  retire 

A  little  backward  for  his  best  defence, 

To  save  his  body  from  the  scorching  fire, 

Which  he  from  hellish  entrails  did  expire 

It  chanced  (Eternal  God  that  chance  did  guide), 

As  he  recoiled  backward,  in  the  mire 

His  nigh  for  wearied  feeble  feet  did  slide, 

And  down  he  fell,  with  dread  of  shame  sore  terrified. 

XLVI. 

There  grew  a  goodly  tree  him  fair  beside, 

Loaden  with  fruit  and  apples  rosy  red, 

As  they  in  pure  vermilion  had  been  dyed, 

Whereof  great  virtues  over  all  were  read  : 

For  happy  life  to  all  which  thereon  fed, 

And  life  eke  everlasting  did  befall  : 

Great  God  it  planted  in  that  blessed  stead 

With  His  Almighty  hand,  and  did  it  call 

The  Tree  of  hit's  the  crime  of  our  first  father's  fall. 

SLVII. 
In  all  the  world  like  was  not  to  be  found, 
Save  in  that  soil,  where  all  good  things  did  grow, 
And  freely  sprang  out  of  the  fruitful  ground, 
As  incorrupted  Nature  did  them  bow, 
Till  that  dread  dragon  all  did  overthrow. 


88  BRITISH  FOLK-LORE. 

Another  like  fair  tree  eke  grew  thereby, 

Whereof  whoso  did  eat,  eftsoones  did  know 

Both  good  and  ill :  0  mournful  memory  ! 

That  tree  through  one  man's  fault  hath  done  us  all  to  die  ! 

XLVIII. 

From  that  first  tree  forth  flow'd,  as  from  a  well, 

A  trickling  stream  of  balm,  most  sovereign 

And  dainty  dear,  which  on  the  ground  still  fell, 

And  overflowed  all  the  fertile  plain, 

As  it  had  dewed  been  with  timely  rain  ; 

Life  and  long  health  that  gracious  ointment  gave  ; 

And  deadly  wounds  could  heal ;  and  rear  again 

The  senseless  corse  appointed  for  the  grave  ; 

Into  that  same  he  fell,  which  did  from  death  him  save. 

XLIX. 

For  nigh  thereto  the  ever  damned  beast 

Durst  not  approach,  for  he  was  deadly  made, 

And  all  that  life  preserved  did  detest ; 

Yet  he  it  oft  adventured  to  invade. 

By  this  the  drooping  Day-light  gan  to  fade, 

And  yield  his  room  to  sad  succeeding  Night, 

Who  with  her  sable  mantle  gan  to  shade 

The  face  of  earth  and  ways  of  living  wight, 

And  high  her  burning  torch  set  up  in  heaven  bright. 


When  gentle  Una  saw  the  second  fall 

Of  her  dear  knight,  who,  weary  of  long  fight, 

And  faint  through  loss  of  blood,  moved  not  at  all, 

But  lay,  as  in  a  dream  of  deep  delight, 

Besmear'd  with  precious  balm,  whose  virtuous  might 

Did  heal  his  wounds,  and  scorching  heat  allay, 

Again  she  stricken  was  with  sore  affright, 

And  for  his  safety  gan  devoutly  pray, 

And  watch  the  noyous  night,  and  wait  for  joyous  day. 


THE  FAERIE  QUEEJVE.  89 

LI. 

The  joyous  day  gan  early  to  appear ; 

And  fair  Aurora  from  the  dewy  bed 

Of  aged  Tithoue  gan  herself  to  rear 

With  rosy  cheeks,  for  shame  as  blushing  red ; 

Her  golden  locks,  for  haste,  were  loosely  shed 

About  her  ears,  when  Una  her  did  mark 

Climb  to  her  charet,  all  with  flowers  spread 

From  heaven  high  to  chase  the  cheerless  dark ; 

With  merry  note  her  loud  salutes  the  mountain  lark. 

LII. 

Then  freshly  up  arose  the  doughty  knight, 

All  healed  of  his  hurts  and  woundes  wide, 

And  did  himself  to  battle  ready  dight ; 

Whose  early  foe  awaiting  him  beside 

To  have  devour'd,  so  soon  as  day  he  spied, 

When  none  he  saw  himself  so  freshly  rear, 

As  if  lute  light  had  nought  him  damnified, 

He  woxe  dismay 'd,  and  gan  his  fate  to  fear ; 

Nathless  with  wonted  rage  he  him  advanced  near ; 

i. ii  i. 
And  in  his  first  encounter,  gaj)ing  wide, 
He  thought  at  once  him  to  have  swallow'd  quite, 
And  nish'd  upon  him  with  outrageous  pride  ; 
Who  him  rencount'ring  fierce  as  hawk  in  flight, 
Perforce  rebutted  back  :  the  weapon  bright. 
Taking  advantage  of  his  open  jaw, 
Ran  through  his  mouth  with  so  importune  might, 
That  deep  empierced  his  darksome  hollow  maw, 
And,  ba<-k  retired,  his  life-blood  forth  withall  did  draw. 

LIV. 

So  down  he  fell,  and  forth  his  life  did  breathe, 
That  vanish'd  into  smoke  and  cloudes  swift : 


90  BRITISH  FOLK-LOBE. 

So  down  he  fell,  that  th'  earth  him  underneath 

Did  groan,  as  feeble  so  great  load  to  lift ; 

So  down  he  fell,  as  an  huge  rocky  clift, 

Whose  false  foundation  waves  have  wash'd  away, 

With  dreadful  poise  is  from  the  mainland  rift, 

And  rolling  down,  great  Neptune  doth  dismay  : 

So  down  he  fell,  and  like  an  heaped  mountain  lay. 

LV. 

The  knight  himself  even  trembled  at  his  fall, 

So  huge  and  horrible  a  mass  it  seem'd  ; 

And  his  dear  lady,  that  beheld  it  all, 

Durst  not  approach  for  dread  which  she  misdeem'd  ; 

But  yet  at  last,  whenas  the  direful  fiend 

She  saw  not  stir,  off -shaking  vain  affright 

She  nigher  drew,  and  saw  that  joyous  end  : 

Then  God  she  praised,  and  thank'd  her  faithful  knight, 

That  had  achieved  so  great  a  conquest  by  his  might. 


BOADICEA. 

BY   WILLIAM    COWPER. 

When  the  British  warrior  queen, 
Bleeding  from  the  Roman  rods, 

Sought,  with  an  indignant  mien, 
Counsel  of  her  country's  gods, 

Sage  beneath  the  spreading  oak, 
Sat  the  Druid,  hoary  chief ; 

Every  burning  word  he  spoke 
Full  of  rage,  and  full  of  grief. 

"  Princess  !  if  our  aged  eyes 

Weep  upon  thy  matchless  wrongs, 

'Tis  because  resentment  ties 
All  the  terrors  of  our  tongues. 


BOADICEA.  91 

"  Rome  shall  perish — write  that  word 

In  the  blood  that  she  has  spilt ; 
Perish,  hopeless  and  abhorr'd, 

Deep  in  ruin  as  in  guilt. 

"  Eome,  for  empire  far  renown'd, 

Tramples  on  a  thousand  states ; 
Soon  her  pride  shall  kiss  the  ground 

Hark  !  the  Gaul  is  at  her  gates ! 

"  Other  Romans  shall  arise, 

Heedless  of  a  soldier's  name ; 
Sounds,  not  arms,  shall  win  the  prize ; 

Harmony  the  path  to  fame. 

"  Then  the  progeny  that  springs 

From  the  forests  of  our  land, 
Arm'd  with  thunder,  clad  with  wings, 

Shall  a  wider  world  command. 

"  Regions  Caesar  never  knew 

Thy  posterity  shall  sway; 
Where  his  eagles  never  ilew, 

None  invincible  as  they." 

Such  the  bard's  prophetic  words, 

Pregnant  with  celestial  fire, 
Bending  as  he  swept  the  chords 

Of  his  sweet  but  awful  lyre. 

She,  with  all  a  monarch's  pride, 

Felt  them  in  her  bosom  glow: 
Rush'd  to  hat  tic,  Eought,  and  died; 

Dying,  hurl'd  them  at  the  foe. 

"Ruffians,  pitiless  as  proud, 

Heaven  awards  the  vengeance  due; 
Empire  is  on  as  bestow'd, 

Shame  and  ruin  wait  for  you." 


92  BRITISH  FOLK-LORE. 

TRISTRAM   OF  LYONESSE. 

BY  ALGERNON  CHARLES  SWINBURNE. 

I. 

THE    SAILING    OF   THE    SWALLOW. 

About  the  middle  music  of  the  spring 

Came  from  the  castled  shore  of  Ireland's  king 

A  fair  ship  stoutly  sailing,  eastward  bound 

And  south  by  Wales  and  all  its  wonders  round 

To  the  loud  rocks  and  ringing  reaches  borne 

That  take  the  wild  wrath  of  the  Cornish  foam, 

Past  Lyonesse  unswallowed  of  the  tides 

And  high  Carlion  that  now  the  steep  sea  hides 

To  the  wind-hollowed  heights  and  gusty  bays 

Of  sheer  Tintagel,  fair  with  famous  days. 

Above  the  stem  a  gilded  swallow  shone, 

Wrought  with  straight  wings  and  eyes  of  glittering  stone 

As  flying  sunward  oversea,  to  bear 

Green  summer  with  it  through  the  singing  air. 

And  on  the  deck  between  the  rowers'  at  dawn, 

As  the  bright  sail  with  brightening  wind  was  drawn, 

Sat  with  full  face  against  the  strengthening  light 

Iseult,  more  fair  than  foam  or  dawn  was  white. 

Her  gaze  was  glad  past  love's  own  singing  of, 

And  her  face  lovely  past  desire  of  love. 

Past  thought  and  speech  her  maiden  motions  were, 

And  a  more  golden  sunrise  was  her  hair. 

The  very  veil  of  her  bright  flesh  was  made 

As  of  light  woven  and  moonbeam-colored  shade 

More  fine  than  moonbeam ;  white  her  eyelids  shone 

As  snow  sun-stricken  that  endures  the  sun, 

And  through  their  curled  and  colored  clouds  of  deep 

Luminous  lashes  thick  as  dreams  in  sleep 

Shone  as  the  sea's  depth  swallowing  up  the  sky's 

The  springs  of  unimaginable  eyes. 


TRISTRAM  OF  LYONESSE.  93 

As  the  wave's  subtler  emerald  is  pierced  through 

With  the  utmost  heaven's  inextricable  blue, 

And  both  are  woven  and  molten  in  one  sleight 

Of  amorous  color  and  implicated  light 

Under  the  golden  guard  and  gaze  of  noon, 

So  glowed  their  awless  amorous  plenilune, 

Azure  and  gold  and  ardent  gray,  made  strange 

With  fiery  difference  and  deep  interchange 

Inexplicable  of  glories  multiform  ; 

Xow  as  the  sullen  sapphire  swells  toward  storm 

Foamless,  their  bitter  beauty  grew  acold, 

And  now  afire  with  ardor  of  fine  gold. 

Her  flower-soft  lips  were  meek  and  passionate, 

For  love  upon  them  like  a  shadow  sate 

Patient,  a  foreseen  vision  of  sweet  things, 

A  dream  with  eyes  fast  shut  and  plumeless  wings 

That  knew  not  what  man's  love  or  life  should  be, 

Not  had  it  sight  nor  heart  to  hope  or  see 

What  tbing  should  come,  but  childlike  satisfied 

Watched  out  its  virgin  vigil  in  soft  pride 

And  unkissed  expectation:  and  the  glad 

Char  cheeks  and  throat  and  tender  temples  had 

Such  maiden  heat  as  if  a  rose's  blood 

Beal  in  the  live  heart  of  a  lily-bud. 

Between  the  small  round  breasts  a  white  way  led 

Heavenward,  and  from  slight  foot  to  slender  head 

The  whole  fair  body  flower-like  swayed  aud  shone 

Moving,  and  what  her  light  hand  leant  upon 

Grew  blossom-scented  :  her  warm  arms  began 

'I'm  round  and  ripen  for  deliglll  of  man 

That  they  should  clasp  and  circle:  her  fresh  hands 

hike  regent  lilies  of  reflowering  lands 

Whose  vassal  firstlings,  crown  and  stun  and  plume, 

Bow  down  to  the  empire  of  that  sovereign  bloom, 

Shone  scepterless,  and  from  her  face  there  went 

A  silent  light  as  of  a  God  content  ; 


94  BRITISH  FOLK-LORE. 

Save  when,  more  swift  and  keen  than  love  or  shame, 

Some  flash  of  blood,  light  as  the  laugh  of  flame, 

Broke  it  with  sudden  beam  and  shining  speech, 

As  dream  by  dream  shot  through  her  eyes,  and  each 

Outshone  the  last  that  lightened,  and  not  one 

Shewed  her  such  things  as  should  be  borne  and  done, 

Though  hard  against  her  shone  the  sunlike  face 

That  in  all  change  and  wreck  of  time  and  place 

Should  be  the  star  of  her  sweet  living  soul. 

Nor  had  love  made  it  as  his  written  scroll 

For  evil  will  and  good  to  read  in  yet ; 

But  smooth  and  mighty,  without  scar  or  fret, 

Fresh  and  high-lifted  was  the  helmless  brow 

As  the  oak-tree  flower  that  tops  the  topmost  bough, 

Ere  it  drop  off  before  the  perfect  leaf ; 

And  nothing  save  his  name  he  had  of  grief, 

The  name  his  mother,  dying  as  he  was  born, 

Made  out  of  sorrow  in  very  sorrow's  scorn, 

And  set  it  on  him  smiling  in  her  sight, 

Tristram  ;  who  now,  clothed  with  sweet  youth  and  might, 

As  a  glad  witness  wore  that  bitter  name, 

The  second  symbol  of  the  world  for  fame. 

Famous  and  full  of  fortune  was  his  youth 

Ere  the  beard's  bloom  had  left  his  cheek  unsmooth, 

And  in  his  face  a  lordship  of  strong  joy 

And  height  of  heart  no  chance  could  curb  or  cloy 

Lightened,  and  all  that  warmed  them  at  his  eyes 

Loved  them  as  young  larks  love  the  blue  strong  skies. 

So  like  the  morning  through  the  morning  moved 

Tristram,  a  light  to  look  on  and  be  loved. 

Song  sprang  between  his  lips  and  hands,  and  shone 

Singing,  and  strengthened  and  sank  down  thereon 

As  a  bird  settles  to  the  second  flight, 

Then  from  beneath  his  harping  hands  with  might 

Leapt,  and  made  way  and  had  its  fill  and  died, 

And  all  whose  hearts  were  fed  upon  it  sighed 


TRISTRAM  OF  LYONESSE. 

Silent,  and  in  them  all  the  fire  of  tears 
Burned  as  wine  drunken  not  with  lips  but  ears. 
And  gazing  on  his  fervent  hands  that  made 
The  might  of  music  all  their  souls  obeyed 
With  trembling  strong  subservience  of  delight, 
Full  many  a  maid  that  had  him  once  in  sight 
Thought  in  the  secret  rapture  of  her  heart 
In  how  dark  onset  had  these  hands  borne  part 
How  oft,  and  were  so  young  and  sweet  of  skill ; 
And  those  red  lips  whereon  the  song  burned  still, 
What  words  and  cries  of  battle  had  they  flung 
Athwart  the  swing  and  shriek  of  swords,  so  young ; 
And  eyes  as  glad  as  summer,  what  strange  youth 
Fed  them  so  full  of  happy  heart  and  truth, 
That  had  seen  sway  from  side  to  sundering  side 
The  steel  flow  of  that  terrible  spring-tide 
That  the  moon  rules  not,  but  the  fire  and  light 
Of  men's  hearts  mixed  in  the  mid  mirth  of  fight. 
Therefore  the  joy  and  love  of  him  they  had 
Made  thought  more  amorous  in  them  and  more  glad 
For  his  fame's  sake  remembered,  and  his  youth 
(lave  his  fame  flower-like  fragrance  and  soft  growth 
As  of  a  rose  requickening,  when  he  stood 
Pair  in  their  eye,  a  flower  of  faultless  blood. 
And  that  sad  queen  to  whom  his  life  was  death, 
A  rose  plucked  forth  of  summer  in  mid  breath, 
A  star  Eall'n  ou1  of  season  in  mid  throe 
Of  that  life's  joy  that  makes  the  star's  life  glow, 
Made  their  love  sadder  toward  him  and  more  strong. 
And  in  mid  change  of  time  and  fight  and  song 
Chance  casl  him  westward  on  the  low  sweet  strand 
Where  songs  are  sung  of  the  old  green  Irish  land, 
And  the  sky  loves  it,  and  the  sea  loves  best, 
And  as  a  bird  is  taken  to  man's  breast 
The  sweet-souled  land  where  sorrow  sweetest  sings 
Is  wrapt  round  with  them  as  with  hands  and  wings 


96  BRITISH  FOLK-LORE. 

And  taken  to  the  sea's  heart  as  a  flower. 

There  in  the  luck  and  light  of  his  good  hour 

Came  to  the  king's  court  like  a  noteless  man 

Tristram,  and  while  some  half  a  season  ran 

Abode  before  him  harping  in  his  hall, 

And  taught  sweet  craft  of  new  things  musical 

To  the  dear  maiden  mouth  and  innocent  hands 

That  for  his  sake  are  famous  in  all  lands. 

Yet  was  not  love  between  them,  for  their  fate 

Lay  wrapt  in  its  appointed  hour  at  wait, 

And  had  no  flower  to  show  yet,  and  no  sting. 

But  once  being  vexed  with  some  past  wound  the  king 

Bade  give  him  comfort  of  sweet  baths,  and  then 

Should  Iseult  watch  him  as  his  handmaiden. 

For  his  more  honor  in  men's  sight,  and  ease 

The  hurts  he  had  with  holy  remedies 

Made  by  her  mother's  magic  in  strange  hours 

Out  of  live  roots  and  life-compelling  flowers. 

And  finding  by  the  wound's  shape  in  his  side 

This  was  the  knight  by  whom  their  strength  had  died 

And  all  their  might  in  one  man  overthrown 

Had  left  their  shame  in  sight  of  all  men  shown, 

She  would  have  slain  him  swordless  with  his  sword ; 

Yet  seemed  he  to  her  so  great  and  fair  a  lord 

She  heaved  up  hand  and  smote  not ;  then  said  he, 

Laughing  :  "  What  comfort  shall  this  dead  man  be, 

Damsel  ?  what  hurt  is  for  my  blood  to  heal  ? 

But  set  your  hand  not  near  the  toothed  steel 

Lest  the  fang  strike  it."—"  Yea,  the  fang,"  she  said, 

"  Should  it  not  sting  the  very  serpent  dead 

That  stung  mine  uncle  ?  for  his  slayer  art  thou, 

And  half  my  mother's  heart  is  bloodless  now 

Through  thee,  that  mad'st  the  veins  of  all  her  kin 

Bleed  in  his  wounds  whose  veins  through  thee  ran  thin." 

Yet  thought  she  how  their  hot  chief's  violent  heart 

Had  flung  the  fierce  word  forth  upon  their  part 


TRISTRAM  OF  LYONESSE.  97 

Which  bade  to  battle  the  best  knight  that  stood 

On  Arthur's,  and  so  dying  of  his  wild  mood 

Had  set  upon  his  conqueror's  flesh  the  seal 

Of  his  mishallovved  and  anointed  steel, 

Whereof  the  venom  and  enchanted  might 

Made  the  sign  burn  here  branded  in  her  sight. 

These  things  she  stood  recasting,  and  her  soul 

Subsiding  in  her,  thought  like  thin  flame  stole 

Through  all  its  maiden  courses,  and  rilled  up 

Its  hidden  ways  as  wine  fulfills  a  cup. 

So  passed  she  from  him  humbly,  and  he  went 

Home  with  hands  reconciled  and  heart  content, 

To  bring  fair  truce  'twixt  Cornwall's  wild  bright  strand 

And  the  long  wrangling  wars  of  that  loud  land. 

And  when  full  peace  was  struck  between  them  twain, 

Forth  must  he  fare  by  those  green  straits  again, 

And  bring  back  Iseult  for  a  plighted  bride, 

And  set  to  reign  at  Mark  his  uncle's  side. 

So  now  witli  feast  made  and  all  triumphs  done 

They  sailed  between  the  moonfall  and  the  sun 

Under  the  spent  stars  eastward  ;  but  the  queen 

Out  of  wise  heart  and  subtle  love  had  seen 

Such  things  as  might  be,  dark  as  in  a  glass, 

And,  lest  some  doom  of  these  should  come  to  pass, 

Bethought  her  with  her  secret  soul  alone 

To  work  some  charm  for  marriage  unison, 

And  shake  the  heart  of  [seult  to  her  lord 

With  power  compulsive  more  than  stroke  of  sword. 

Therefore  with  marvelous  herbs  and  spells  she  wrought 

To  win  the  very  wonder  of  her  thought, 

And  brewed  it  with  her  secret  hands,  and  Nest 

And  drew  and  gave  "in  of  her  secrei  breast 

To  one  in  r  chos<  11  ami  [seult's  handmaiden, 

Brangwain,  and  hade  her  hide  from  sight  ot  men 

This  marvel  covered  in  a  gulden  eup  ; 

So  covering  in  her  heart  the  counsel  up 

FOLK-LORE    7 


98  BRITISH  FOLK-LORE. 

As  in  the  gold  the  wondrous  wine  lay  close ; 
And  when  the  last  shout  with  the  last  cup  rose 
About  the  bride  and  bridegroom  bound  to  bed, 
Then  should  this  one  word  of  her  will  be  said 
To  her  new-married  maiden  child,  that  she 
Should  drink  with  Mark  this  draught  in  unity, 
And  no  lip  touch  it  for  her  sake  but  theirs  : 
For  with  long  love  and  consecrating  prayers 
The  wine  was  hallowed  for  their  mouths  to  pledge, 
And  if  a  drop  fell  from  the  beaker's  edge, 
That  drop  should  Iseult  hold  as  dear  as  blood 
Shed  from  her  mother's  heart  to  do  her  good. 
And  having  drunk,  they  twain  should  be  one  heart 
Who  were  one  flesh  till  fleshly  death  should  part — 
Death,  who  parts  all.     So  Brangwain  swore,  and  kept 
The  hid  thing  by  her  while  she  waked  or  slept. 
And  now  they  sat  to  see  the  sun  again, 
Whose  light  of  eye  had  looked  on  no  such  twain 
Since  Galahauit  in  the  rose-time  of  the  year 
Brought  Launcelot  first  to  sight  of  Guenevere. 


And  while  they  sat  at  speech  as  at  a  feast, 

Came  a  light  wind  fast  hardening  forth  of  the  east 

And  blackening,  till  its  might  had  marred  the  skies; 

And  the  sea  thrilled  as  with  heart-sundering  sighs 

One  after  one  drawn,  with  each  breath  it  drew, 

And  the  green  hardened  into  iron  blue, 

And  the  soft  light  went  out  of  all  its  face. 

Then  Tristram  girt  him  for  an  oarsman's  place 

And  took  his  oar  and  smote,  and  toiled  with  might 

In  the  east  wind's  full  face  and  the  strong  sea's  spite 

Laboring ;  and  all  the  rowers  rowed  hard,  but  he 

More  mightily  than  any  wearier  three. 

And  Iseult  watched  him  rowing  with  sinless  eyes 

That  loved  him  but  in  holy  girlish  wise 


TRISTRAM  OF  LTOJVESSE.  99 

For  noble  joy  in  his  fair  manliness 

And  trust  and  tender  wonder ;  none  the  less 

She  thought  if  God  had  given  her  grace  to  be 

Man,  and  make  war  on  danger  of  earth  and  sea, 

Even  such  a  man  she  would  be ;  for  his  stroke 

AVas  mightiest  as  the  mightier  water  broke, 

And  in  sheer  measure  like  strong  music  drave 

Clean  through  the  wet  weight  of  the  wallowing  wave, 

And  as  a  tune  before  a  great  king  played 

For  triumph  was  the  tune  their  strong  strokes  made, 

And  sped  the  ship  through  with  smooth  strife  of  oars 

Over  the  mid  sea's  gray  foam-paven  floors, 

For  all  the  loud  breach  of  the  waves  at  will. 

So  for  an  hour  they  fought  the  storm  out  still, 

And  the  shorn  foam  spun  from  the  blades,  and  high 

The  keel  sprang  from  the  wave-ridge,  and  the  sky 

Glared  at  them  for  a  breath's  space  through  the  rain ; 

Then  the  bows  with  a  sharp  shock  plunged  again 

Down,  and  the  sea  clashed  on  them,  and  so  rose 

The  bright  stem  like  one  panting  from  swift  blows, 

And  as  a  swimmer's  joyous  beaten  head 

Rears  itself  laughing,  so  in  that  sharp  stead 

The  light  ship  lifted  her  long  quivering  bows 

As  might  the  man  his  buffeted  strong  brows 

Out  of  the  wave-breach  ;  for  with  one  stroke  yet 

AVent  all  men's  oars  together,  strongly  set 

As  to  loud  music,  and  with  hearts  uplift 

They  smote  their  strong  way  through  the  drench  and  drift, 

Till  thr  keen  hour  had  chafed  itself  to  death, 

And  the  cast  wind  fell  fitfully,  breath  by  breath, 

Tired  ;  and  across  the  thin  and  slackening  rain 

Sprang  the  face  southward  of  the  sun  again. 

Then  all  they  rested  mid  were  cased  ;lt  heart, 

And  Iseult  rose  up  where  she  sat  apart, 

And,  with  her  sweet  soul  deepening  her  deep  eyes, 

Cast  the  furs  from  her,  and  subtle  embroideries 


lOO  BRITISH  FOLK-LORE. 

That  wrapped  her  from  the  storming  rain  and  spray, 

And,  shining  like  all  April  in  one  day, 

Hair,  face,  and  throat  dashed  with  the  straying  showers, 

She  stood  the  first  of  all  the  whole  world's  flowers, 

And  laughed  on  Tristram  with  her  eyes,  and  said, 

"  I  too  have  heart,  then  ;  I  was  not  afraid." 

And  answering  some  light  courteous  word  of  grace, 

He  saw  her  clear  face  lighten  on  his  face 

Unwittingly,  with  unenamored  eyes, 

For  the  last  time.     A  live  man  in  such  wise 

Looks  in  the  deadly  face  of  his  fixed  hour 

And  laughs  with  lips  wherein  he  hath  no  power 

To  keep  the  life  yet  some  five  minutes'  space. 

So  Tristram  looked  on  Iseult  face  to  face, 

And  knew  not,  and  she  knew  not.     The  last  time — 

The  last  that  should  be  told  in  any  rhyme 

Heard  anywhere  on  mouths  of  singing  men 

That  ever  should  sing  praise  of  them  again ; 

The  last  hour  of  their  hurtless  hearts  at  rest, 

The  last  that  peace  should  touch  them  breast  to  breast, 

The  last  that  sorrow  far  from  them  should  sit, 

This  last  was  with  them,  and  they  knew  not  it. 

For  Tristram,  being  athirst  with  toil,  now  spake. 
Saying  :  "  Iseult,  for  all  dear  love's  labor's  sake 
Give  me  to  drink,  and  give  me  for  a  pledge 
The  touch  of  four  lips  on  the  beaker's  edge." 
And  Iseult  sought  and  would  not  wake  Brangwain-, 
Who  slept  as  one  half  dead  with  fear  and  pain, 
Being  tender- natured  ;  so  with  hushed  light  feet 
Went  Iseult  round  her,  with  soft  looks  and  sweet 
Pitying  her  pain  ;  so  sweet  a  spirited  thing 
She  was,  and  daughter  of  a  kindly  king. 
And  spying  what  strange  bright  secret  charge  was  kept 
Fast  in  that  maid's  white  bosom  while  she  slept, 
She  sought  and  drew  the  gold  cup  forth  and  smiled 
Marveling,  with  such  light  wonder  as  a  child 


GUINEVERE.  101 

That  hears  of  glad  sad  life  in  magic  lands  ; 

And  bare  it  back  to  Tristram,  with  pure  hands 

Holding  the  love-draught  that  should  be  for  flame 

To  burn  out  of  them  fear  and  faith  and  shame, 

And  lighten  all  their  life  up  in  men's  sight, 

And  make  them  sad  forever.     Then  the  knight 

Bowed  toward  her  and  craved  whence  had  she  this  strange 

thing, 
That  might  be  spoil  of  some  dim  Asian  king, 
By  starlight  stolen  from  some  waste  place  of  sands, 
And  a  maid  bore  it  here  in  harmless  hands. 
And  Iseult,  laughing — "  Other  lords  that  be 
Feast,  and  their  men  feast  after  them  ;  but  we, 
Our  men  must  keep  the  best  wine  back  to  feast 
Till  they  be  full,  and  we  of  all  men  least 
Feed  after  them  and  fain  to  fare  so  well  : 
So  with  mine  handmaid  and  your  squire  it  fell 
That  hid  this  bright  thing  from  us  in  a  wile  :" 
And  with  light  lips  yet  full  of  their  swift  smile, 
And  hands  that  wist  not  though  they  dug  a  grave, 
Undid  the  hasps  of  gold,  and  drank,  and  gave, 
And  he  drank  after,  a  deep  glad  kingly  draught : 
And  all  their  life  changed  in  them,  for  they  quaffed 
Death  ;  if  it  be  death  so  to  drink,  and  fare 
As  men  who  change  and  are  what  these  twain  were. 


GUINEVERE. 
{From  "Idylls  of  the  King.") 

HV  ALFRED,  LORD  TENNYSON. 

So  Lancelot  got  her  horse, 

Set  her  thereon,  and  mounted  on  his  own, 
And  then  they  rode  to  the  divided  way, 
There  kiss'd,  and  parted  weeping:   for  he  passed 
Love-loyal  to  the  least  wish  of  the  Queen, 


102  BRITISH  FOLK-LORE. 

Back  to  his  land  ;  but  she  to  Almesbury 

Fled  all  night  long  by  glimmering  waste  and  weald, 

And  heard  the  Spirits  of  the  waste  and  weald 

Moan  as  she  fled,  or  thought  she  heard  them  moan  : 

And  in  herself  she  moan'd,  "  Too  late,  too  late  !  " 

Till  in  the  cold  wind  that  foreruns  the  morn. 

A  blot  in  heaven,  the  Eaven,  flying  high, 

Croak'd,  and  she  thought,  "  He  spies  a  field  of  death  ; 

For  now  the  heathen  of  the  Northern  Sea, 

Lured  by  the  crimes  and  frailties  of  the  court, 

Begin  to  slay  the  folk,  and  spoil  the  land." 

And  when  she  came  to  Almesbury  she  spake 
There  to  the  nuns,  and  said,  "  Mine  enemies 
Pursue  me,  but,  0  peaceful  Sisterhood, 
Receive,  and  yield  me  sanctuary,  nor  ask 
Her  name,  to  whom  ye  yield  it,  till  her  time 
To  tell  you  :  "  and  her  beauty,  grace,  and  power 
Wrought  as  a  charm  upon  them,  and  they  spared 
To  ask  it. 

So  the  stately  Queen  abode 
For  many  a  week,  unknown,  among  the  nuns  ; 
Nor  with  them  mix'd,  nor  told  her  name,  nor  sought, 
Wrapt  in  her  grief,  for  housel  or  for  shrift, 
But  communed  only  with  the  little  maid, 
Who  pleased  her  with  a  babbling  heedlessness 
Which  often  lured  her  from  herself ;  but  now, 
This  night,  a  rumor  wildly  blown  about 
Came  that  Sir  Moclred  had  usurp'd  the  realm, 
And  leagued  him  with  the  heathen,  while  the  King 
Was  waging  war  on  Lancelot :  then  she  thought, 
"  With  what  a  hate  the  people  and  the  King 
Must  hate  me  ! "  and  bow'd  down  upon  her  hands 
Silent,  until  the  little  maid,  who  brook'd 
No  silence,  brake  it,  uttering,  "  Late  !  so  late  ! 
What  hour,  I  wonder,  now?"  and  when  she  drew 
No  answer,  by  and  by  began  to  hum 


GUINEVERE.  103 

An  air  the  nuns  had  taught  her  :  "  Late,  so  late  !  " 
Which  when  she  heard,  the  Queen  looked  up,  and  said, 
"  0  maiden,  if  indeed  you  list  to  sing, 
Sing,  and  unbind  my  heart  that  I  may  weep." 
Whereat  full  willingly  sang  the  little  maid : 

"  Late,  late,  so  late  !  and  dark  the  night  and  chill ! 
Late,  late,  so  late !  but  we  can  enter  still. 
Too  late,  too  Late !  ye  can  not  enter  now. 

"  No  light  had  we :  for  that  we  do  repent ; 
And  learning  this,  the  bridegroom  will  relent. 
Too  late,  too  late !  ye  can  not  enter  now. 

"  No  light ;  so  late  !  and  dark  and  chill  the  night  I 
Oh,  let  us  in,  that  we  may  find  the  light ! 
Too  late,  too  late !  ye  can  not  enter  now. 

"  Have  we  not  heard  the  bridegroom  is  so  sweet? 
Oh,  let  us  in,  tho'  late,  to  kiss  his  feet ! 
No,  no,  too  late!  ye  can  not  enter  now." 

So  sang  the  novice,  while  full  passionately, 
Her  head  upon  her  hands,  remembering 
Her  thought  when  first  she  came,  wept  the  sad  Queen. 
Then  said  the  little  novice  prattling  to  her: 

"Oli,  pray  you,  noble  lady,  weep  no  more: 
But  let  my  words,  the  words  of  one  so  small, 
Who  knowing  nothing  knows  but  to  obey — 
And  if  I  do  not  there  is  penance  given — 
Comfort  your  sorrows;  for  they  do  not  flow 
From  evil  done  :  right  sure  am  I  of  that, 
Who  see  your  tender  grace  and  stateliness. 
But  weigh  your  sorrows  with  our  lord  the  King's, 
And  weighing  find  them  less;  for  gone  is  he 
To  wage  grim  war  against  Sir  Lancelot  there, 
Hound  that  strong  castle  where  he  holds  the  Queen; 
And  Modred  whom  he.  left,  in  charge  of  all, 
The  traitor — Ah,  sweet  lady,  the  King's  grief 
For  his  own  self,  and  his  own  Queen,  and  realm, 
Must  needs  be  thrice  as  great  as  any  of  ours. 


104  BRITISH  FOLK-LORE. 

For  me  I  thank  the  saints  I  am  not  great. 

For  if  there  ever  come  a  grief  to  me, 

I  cry  my  cry  in  silence,  and  have  done : 

None  knows  it,  and  my  tears  have  brought  me  good. 

But  even  were  the  griefs  of  little  ones 

As  great  as  those  of  great  ones,  yet  this  grief 

Is  added  to  the  griefs  the  great  must  bear, 

That  howsoever  much  they  may  desire 

Silence,  they  can  not  weep  behind  a  cloud  : 

As  even  here  they  talk  at  Almesbury 

About  the  good  King  and  his  wicked  Queen. 

And  were  I  such  a  King  with  such  a  Queen, 

Well  might  I  wish  to  veil  her  wickedness, 

But  were  I  such  a  King,  it  could  not  be." 

Then  to  her  own  sad  heart  mutter'd  the  Queen, 
"  Will  the  child  kill  me  with  her  innocent  talk  ?  " 
But  openly  she  answer'd,  "  Must  not  I, 
If  this  false  traitor  have  displaced  his  lord, 
Grieve  with  the  common  grief  of  all  the  realm  ?  " 

"  Yea,"  said  the  maid,  "  this  is  all  woman's  grief, 
That  she  is  woman,  whose  disloyal  life 
Hath  wrought  confusion  in  the  Table  Round 
Which  good  King  Arthur  founded,  years  ago, 
With  signs  and  miracles  and  wonders,  there 
At  Camelot,  ere  the  coming  of  the  Queen." 

Then  thought  the  Queen  within  herself  again, 
"  Will  the  child  kill  me  with  her  foolish  prate  ?  " 
But  openly  she  spake  and  said  to  her, 
"  0  little  maid,  shut  in  by  nunnery  walls, 
What  canst  thou  know  of  Kings  and  Tables  Round, 
Or  what  of  signs  and  wonders,  but  the  signs 
And  simple  miracles  of  thy  nunnery  ?  " 

To  whom  the  little  novice  garrulously  : 
"  Yea,  but  I  know  :  the  land  was  full  of  signs 


GUINEVERE.  lOS 

And  wonders  ere  the  coming  of  the  Queen. 

So  said  ray  father,  and  himself  was  knight 

Of  the  great  Table — at  the  founding  of  it ; 

And  rode  thereto  from  Lyonnesse,  and  he  said 

That  as  he  rode,  an  hour  or  maybe  twain 

After  the  sunset,  down  the  coast,  he  heard 

Strange  music,  and  he  paused,  and  turning — there, 

All  down  the  lonely  coast  of  Lyonnesse, 

Each  with  a  beacon-star  upon  his  head, 

And  with  a  wild  sea-light  about  his  feet, 

He  saw  them — headland  after  headland  flame 

Far  on  into  the  rich  heart  of  the  west : 

And  in  the  light  the  white  mermaiden  swam, 

And  strong  man-breasted  things  stood  from  the  sea, 

And  sent  a  deep  sea-voice  thro'  all  the  land, 

To  which  the  little  elves  of  chasm  and  cleft 

Made  answer,  sounding  like  a  distant  horn. 

So  said  my  father — yea,  and  furthermore, 

Next  morning,  while  he  passed  the  dim-lit  woods, 

Himself  beheld  three  spirits  mad  with  joy 

Come  dashing  down  on  a  tall  wayside  flower. 

That  shook  beneath  them,  as  the  thistle  shakes 

When  three  gray  linnets  wrangle  for  the  seed  : 

And  still  at  evenings  on  before  his  horse 

The  flickering  fairy-circle  wheel'd  and  broke 

Flying,  and  link'd  again,  and  wheel'd  and  broke 

Flying,  for  all  the  land  was  full  of  life. 

And  when  at  Iasi  he  came  to  Camelot, 

A  wreath  of  airy  dancers  hand-in-hand 

Swung  round  the  lighted  lantern  of  the  hall; 

And  in  the  hall  itself  was  such  a  feasl 

As  never  man  had  dream 'd  ;  for  every  knight 

Had  whatsoever  meat  he  long'd  for  served 

By  hands  unseen  ;  and  even  as  he  said, 

Down  in  the  cellars  merry  bloated  things 

Shoulder'd  the  spigot,  straddling  on  the  butts 


106  BRITISH  FOLK-LORE. 

"While  the  wine  ran,  so  glad  were  spirits  and  men 
Before  the  coming  of  the  sinful  Queen." 

Then  spake  the  Queen,  and  somewhat  bitterly, 
"  Were  they  so  glad  ?    Ill  prophets  were  they  all, 
Spirits  and  men  :  could  none  of  them  foresee, 
Not  even  thy  wise  father  with  his  signs 
And  wonders,  what  has  fall'n  upon  the  realm?" 

To  whom  the  novice  garrulously  again : 
"  Yea,  one,  a  bard  ;  of  whom  my  father  said 
Full  many  a  noble  war-song  had  he  sung, 
Ev'n  in  the  presence  of  an  enemy's  fleet, 
Between  the  steep  cliff  and  the  coming  wave ; 
And  many  a  mystic  lay  of  life  and  death 
Had  chanted  on  the  smoky  mountain-tops, 
When  round  him  bent  the  spirits  of  the  hills, 
With  all  their  dewy  hair  blown  back  like  flame  : 
So  said,  my  father — and  that  night  the  bard 
Sang  Arthur's  glorious  wars,  and  sang  the  King 
As  well-nigh  more  than  man,  and  rail'd  at  those 
Who  call'd  him  the  false  son  of  Gorloi's : 
For  there  was  no  man  knew  from  whence  he  came  ; 
But  after  tempests,  when  the  long  wave  broke 
All  down  the  thundering  shores  of  Bude  and  Bos, 
There  came  a  day  as  still  as  heaven,  and  then 
They  found  a  naked  child  upon  the  sands 
Of  dark  Dundagil  by  the  Cornish  sea; 
And  that  was  Arthur;  and  they  foster'd  him 
Till  he  by  miracle  was  approven  king : 
And  that  his  grave  should  be  a  mystery 
From  all  men,  like  his  birth ;  and  could  he  find 
A  woman  in  her  womanhood  as  great 
As  he  was  in  his  manhood,  then,  he  sang, 
The  twain  together  well  might  change  the  world. 
But  even  in  the  middle  of  his  song 
He  falter'd,  and  his  hand  fell  from  the  harp, 
And  pale  he  turn'd,  and  recl'd,  and  would  have  fall'n, 


GUINEVERE.  107 

But  that  they  stay'd  him  up :  nor  would  he  tell 
His  vision  ;  but  what  doubt  that  he  foresaw 
This  evil  work  of  Lancelot  and  the  Queen  ?  " 

Then  thought  the  Queen,  "  Lo  !  they  have  set  her  on, 
Our  simple-seeming  Abbess  and  her  nuns, 
To  play  upon  me,"  and  bow'd  her  head  nor  spake. 
Whereat  the  novice  crying,  with  clasp'd  hands, 
Shame  on  her  own  garrulity  garrulously, 
Said  the  good  nuns  would  check  her  gadding  tongue 
Full  often,  "  And,  sweet  lady,  if  I  seem 
To  vex  an  ear  too  sad  to  listen  to  me, 
Unmannerly,  with  prattling  and  with  tales 
Which  my  good  father  told  me,  check  me  too  : 
Nor  let  me  shame  my  father's  memory,  one 
Of  noblest  manners,  tho'  himself  would  say 
Sir  Lancelot  had  the  noblest :  and  he  died, 
Kill'd  in  a  tilt,  come  next,  five  summers  back, 
And  left  me ;  but  of  others  who  remain, 
And  of  the  two  first-famed  for  courtesy — 
And  pray  you  check  me  if  I  ask  amiss — 
But  pray  yon,  which  had  noblest,  while  you  moved 
Among  them,  Lancelot,  or  our  lord  the  King?" 

Then  the  pale  Queen  look'd  up  and  answered  her, 
"  Sir  Lancelot,  as  became  a  noble  knight, 
Was  gracious  to  all  ladies,  and  the  same 
In  open  battle  or  tic  til  ting-field 
Forbore  his  own  advantage,  and  these  two 
Were  the  mosl  uobly-manner'd  men  of  all  ; 
I'm-  manners  are  not  idle,  hut  the  fruit 
Of  loyal  nature,  and  of  noble  mind." 

"Yea,"  said  the  maid,  "be  manners  such  fair  fruit? 
Then  Lancelot's  needs  musi  he  ;i  thousandfold 
Less  noble,  being,  as  all  rumor  rims, 
Tho  most  disloyal  friend  in  all  the  world." 


108  BRITISH  FOLK-LORE. 

To  which  a  mournful  answer  made  the  Queen, 
"0  closed  about  by  narrowing  nunnery  walls, 
What  knowest  thou  of  the  world,  and  all  its  lights 
And  shadows,  all  the  wealth  and  all  the  woe? 
If  ever  Lancelot,  that  most  noble  knight, 
Were  for  one  hour  less  noble  than  himself, 
Pray  for  him  that  he  'scape  the  doom  of  fire, 
And  weep  for  her,  who  drew  him  to  his  doom." 

"  Yea,"  said  the  little  novice,  "  I  pray  for  both  ; 
But  I  should  all  as  soon  believe  that  his, 
Sir  Lancelot's,  were  as  noble  as  the  King's, 
As  I  could  think,  sweet  lady,  yours  would  be 
.Such  as  they  are,  were  you  the  sinful  Queen." 

So  she,  like  many  another  babbler,  hurt 
Whom  she  would  soothe,  and  harm'd  where  she  would  heal ; 
For  here  a  sudden  flush  of  wrathful  heat 
Fired  all  the  pale  face  of  the  Queen,  who  cried, 
"  Such  as  thou  art  be  never  maiden  more 
Forever !  thou  their  tool,  set  on  to  plague 
And  play  upon,  and  harry  me,  pretty  spy 
And  traitress."     When  that  storm  of  anger  brake 
From  Guinevere,  aghast  the  maiden  rose, 
White  as  her  veil,  and  stood  before  the  Queen 
As  tremulously  as  foam  upon  the  beach 
Stands  in  a  wind,  ready  to  break  and  fly, 
And  when  the  Queen  had  added,  "  Get  thee  hence  ! " 
Fled  frighted.     Then  that  other  left  alone 
Sigh'd,  and  began  to  gather  heart  again, 
Saying  in  herself,  "The  simple,  fearful  child 
Meant  nothing,  but  my  own  too-fearful  guilt, 
Simpler  than  any  child,  betrays  itself. 
But  help  me,  Heaven,  for  surely  I  repent. 
For  what  is  true  repentance  but  in  thought — 
Not  ev'n  in  inmost  thought  to  think  again 
The  sins  that  made  the  past  so  pleasant  to  us : 


GUINEVERE.  lOO 

And  I  have  sworn  never  to  see  him  more, 
To  see  him  more." 

And  ev'ii  in  saying  this, 
Her  memory  from  old  habit  of  the  mind 
Went  slipping  back  upon  the  golden  days 
In  which  she  saw  him  first,  when  Lancelot  came, 
Keputed  the  best  knight  and  goodliest  man, 
Ambassador,  to  lead  her  to  his  lord 
Arthur,  and  led  her  forth,  and  far  ahead 
Of  his  and  her  retinue  moving,  they, 
Rapt  in  sweet  thought,  or  lively,  all  on  love 
And  sport  and  tilts  and  pleasure  (for  the  time 
Was  Maytime,  and  as  yet  no  sin  was  dream'd), 
Rode  under  groves  that  look'd  a  paradise 
Of  blossom,  over  sheets  of  hyacinth 
That  seem'd  the  heavens  upbreaking  thro'  the  earth, 
And  on  from  hill  to  hill,  and  every  day 
Beheld  at  noon  in  some  delicious  dale 
The  silk  pavilions  of  King  Arthur  raised 
For  brief  repast  or  afternoon  repose 
By  couriers  gone  before;  and  on  again, 
Till  yet  once  more  ere  set  of  sun  they  saw 
The  Dragon  of  the  greal  £>endragonship, 
That  crown'd  the  state  pavilion  of  the  King, 
Blaze  by  the  rushing  brook  or  silent  well. 

But  when  the  Queen  immersed  in  such  a  trance, 
And  moving  thro1  the  past  unconsciously, 
Came  to  that  point,  when  first  she  saw  the  King 
Ride  toward  her  from  the  city,  sigh'd  to  find 
Her  journey  done,  glanced  at  him,  thought  him  cold, 
High,  self-contaiu'd,  and  passionless,  not  like  him, 
"  Not,  like  my  Lancelot  "—while  she  brooded  thus. 
And  grew  half-guilty  in  her  thoughts  again, 
There  rode  an  armed  warrior  to  the  floors. 
A  murmuring  whisper  thro'  the  nunnery  ran, 


HO  BRITISH  FOLK-LORE. 

Then  on  a  sudden  a  cry,  "  The  King."     She  sat 
Stiff-stricken,  listening  ;  but  when  armed  feet 
Thro'  the  long  gallery  from  the  outer  doors 
Rang  coming,  prone  from  off  her  seat  she  fell, 
And  grovel'd  with  her  face  against  the  floor  : 
There  with  her  milk-white  arms  and  shadowy  hair 
She  made  her  face  a  darkness  from  the  King  : 
And  in  the  darkness  heard  his  armed  feet 
Pause  by  her  ;  then  came  silence,  then  a  voice, 
Monotonous  and  hollow  like  a  ghost's 
Denouncing  judgment,  but  tho'  changed,  the  King's. 

"  Liest  thou  here  so  low,  the  child  of  one 
I  honor'd,  happy,  dead  before  thy  shame  ? 
Well  is  it  that  no  child  is  born  of  thee. 
The  children  born  of  thee  are  sword  and  fire, 
Red  ruin,  and  the  breaking  up  of  laws, 
The  craft  of  kindred  and  the  godless  hosts 
Of  heathen  swarming  o'er  the  Northern  Sea, 
Whom  I,  while  yet  Sir  Lancelot,  my  right  arm, 
The  mightiest  of  my  knights,  abode  with  me, 
Have  everywhere  about  this  land  of  Christ 
In  twelve  great  battles  ruining  overthrown. 
And  knowest  thou  now  from  whence  I  come — from  him, 
From  waging  bitter  war  with  him  :  and  he, 
That  did  not  shun  to  smite  me  in  worse  way, 
Had  yet  that  grace  of  courtesy  in  him  left, 
He  spared  to  lift  his  hand  against  the  King 
Who  made  him  knight :  but  many  a  knight  was  slain  ; 
And  many  more,  and  all  his  kith  and  kin 
Clave  to  him,  and  abode  in  his  own  land. 
And  many  more  when  Modred  raised  revolt, 
Forgetful  of  their  troth  and  fealty,  clave 
To  Modred,  and  a  remnant  stays  with  me. 
And  of  this  remnant  will  I  leave  a  part, 
True  men  who  love  me  still,  for  whom  I  live, 


GUINEVERE.  1 1  1 

To  guard  thee  in  the  wild  hour  coming  on, 

Lest  but  a  hair  of  this  low  head  be  harm'd. 

Fear  not :  thou  shalt  be  guarded  till  my  death. 

Howbeit,  I  know,  if  ancient  prophecies 

Have  err'd  not,  that  I  march  to  meet  my  doom. 

Thou  hast  not  made  my  life  so  sweet  to  me, 

That  I,  the  King,  should  greatly  care  to  live  ; 

For  thou  hast  spoilt  the  purpose  of  my  life. 

Bear  with  me  for  the  last  time  while  I  show, 

Ev'n  for  thy  sake,  the  sin  which  thou  hast  sinn'd. 

For  when  the  Roman  left  us,  and  their  law 

RelaxVl  its  hold  upon  us,  and  the  ways 

Were  fill'd  with  rapine,  here  and  there  a  deed 

Of  prowess  done  redress'd  a  random  wrong. 

But  I  was  first  of  all  the  kings  who  drew 

The  knighthood-errant  of  this  realm  and  all 

The  realms  together  under  me,  their  head, 

In  that  fair  order  of  my  Table  Round, 

A  glorious  company,  the  flower  of  men, 

To  -"I've  as  model  for  the  mighty  world, 

And  be  the  fair  beginning  of  a  time. 

I  made  them  lay  their  hands  in  mine  and  swear 

To  reverence  the  King,  as  if  he  were 

Their  conscience,  and  their  conscience  as  their  King, 

To  break  the  heathen  and  uphold  the  Christ, 

To  ride  abroad  redressing  human  wrongs, 

To  speak  no  slander,  no,  nor  listen  to  it, 

To  lead  sweet  lives  in  purest  chastity, 

To  love  one  maiden  only,  cleave  to  her, 

And  worship  her  by  years  of  noble  deeds, 

Until  they  won  her;  for  indeed  I  knew 

<  )f  no  more  subtle  master  under  heaven 

Than  i-  the  maiden  passion  for  a  maid, 

Not  only  to  keep  down  the  base  in  man, 

But  teach  high  thought  and  amiable  words 

And  courtliness,  and  the  desire  of  fame, 


1  1  2  BRITISH  FOLK-LOBE. 

And  love  of  truth,  and  all  that  makes  a  man. 

And  all  this  throve  until  I  wedded  thee ! 

Believing  '  Lo,  mine  helpmate,  one  to  feel 

My  purpose  and  rejoicing  in  my  joy.' 

Then  came  thy  shameful  sin  with  Lancelot; 

Then  came  the  sin  of  Tristram  and  Isolt ; 

Then  others,  following  these  my  mightiest  knights, 

And  drawing  foul  ensample  from  fair  names, 

Sinn'd  also,  till  the  loathsome  opposite 

Of  all  my  heart  had  destined  did  obtain, 

And  all  thro'  thee  !  so  that  this  life  of  mine 

I  guard  as  God's  high  gift  from  scath  and  wrong, 

Not  greatly  care  to  lose  ;  but  rather  think 

How  sad  it  were  for  Arthur,  should  he  live, 

To  sit  once  more  within  his  lonely  hall, 

And  miss  the  wonted  number  of  my  knights, 

And  miss  to  hear  high  talk  of  noble  deeds, 

As  in  the  golden  days  before  thy  sin. 

For  which  of  us,  who  might  be  left,  could  speak      , 

Of  the  pure  heart,  nor  seem  to  glance  at  thee? 

And  in  thy  bowers  of  Camelot  or  of  Usk 

Thy  shadow  still  would  glide  from  room  to  room, 

And  I  should  evermore  be  vext  with  thee 

In  hanging  robe  or  vacant  ornament, 

Or  ghostly  footfall  echoing  on  the  stair. 

For  think  not,  tho'  thou  wouldst  not  love  thy  lord, 

Thy  lord  has  wholly  lost  his  love  for  thee. 

I  am  not  made  of  so  slight  elements. 

Yet  must  I  leave  thee,  woman,  to  thy  shame. 

I  hold  that  man  the  worst  of  public  foes, 

Who  either  for  his  own  or  children's  sake, 

To  save  his  blood  from  scandal,  lets  the  wife 

Whom  he  knows  false,  abide  and  rule  the  house  : 

For  being  thro'  his  cowardice  allowVl 

Her  station,  taken  everywhere  for  pure, 

She  like  a  new  disease,  unknown  to  men, 


GUINEVERE.  1 1 3 

Creeps,  no  precaution  used,  among  the  crowd, 
Makes  wicked  lightnings  of  her  eyes,  and  saps 
The  fealty  of  our  friends,  aud  stirs  the  pulse 
With  devil's  leaps,  and  poisons  half  the  young. 
Worst  of  the  worst  were  that  man  he  that  reigns ! 
Better  the  King's  waste  hearth  and  aching  heart, 
Than  thou  reseated  in  thy  place  of  light, 
The  mockery  of  my  people,  and  their  bane." 

He  paused,  and  in  the  pause  she  crept  an  inch 
Nearer,  and  laid  her  hands  about  his  feet. 
Far  off  a  solitary  trumpet  blew. 
Then  waiting  by  the  doors  the  war-horse  neigh'd 
As  at  a  friend's  voice,  aud  he  spake  again  : 

"  Yet  think  not  that  I  come  to  urge  thy  crimes. 
I  did  not  come  to  curse  thee,  Guinevere, 
I,  whose  vast  pity  almost  makes  me  die 
To  see  thee,  laying  there  thy  golden  head, 
My  pride  in  happier  summers,  at  my  feet. 
The  wrath  which  forced  my  thoughts  on  that  fierce  law, 
The  doom  of  treason  and  the  flaming  death 
(When  first  I  learnt  thee  hidden  here),  is  past. 
The  jiang— which  while  I  weigh'd  thy  heart  with  one 
Too  wholly  true  to  dream  untruth  in  thee, 
Made  my  tears  burn — is  also  past,  in  part. 
Ami  all  is  past,  the  sin  is  sinn'd,  and  1, 
Lo !  I  forgive  thee,  as  Eternal  God 
Forgives:  do  thou  for  thine  own  soul  the  rest. 
But  how  to  take  last  leave  of  all  I  loved  ? 

0  golden  hair,  with  which  I  u^-<]  to  play 
Not  knowing!     0  imperial-molded  form, 
And  beauty  such  as  never  woman  wore, 
Until  it  came  a  kingdom's  curse  with  thee — 

1  can  not  touch  thy  lips  ;  they  arc  not  mine, 
But  Lancelot's:  nay,  they  uever  were  the  King's. 
I  can  not  take  thy  hand  ;  that,  too,  is  flesh, 

FOLK-LORE   8 


114  BRITISH  FOLK-LORE. 

And  in  the  flesh  thou  hast  sinn'J  ;  and  mine  own  flesh, 

Here  looking  down  on  thine  own  polluted,  cries, 

'  I  loathe  thee  ; '  yet  not  less,  0  Guinevere, 

For  I  was  ever  virgin  save  for  thee ; 

My  love  thro'  flesh  hath  wrought  into  my  life 

So  far,  that  my  doom  is,  I  love  thee  still. 

Let  no  man  dream  but  that  I  love  thee  still. 

Perchance,  and  so  thou  purify  thy  soul, 

And  so  thou  lean  on  our  fair  father  Christ, 

Hereafter  in  that  world  where  all  are  pure 

We  two  may  meet  before  high  God,  and  thou 

AVilt  spring  to  me,  and  claim  me  thine,  and  know 

I  am  thine  husband— not  a  smaller  soul, 

Nor  Lancelot,  nor  another.     Leave  me  that, 

I  charge  thee,  my  last  hope.     Now  must  I  hence. 

Thro'  the  thick  night  I  hear  the  trumpet  blow  : 

They  summon  me  their  King  to  lead  mine  hosts 

Far  down  to  that,  great  battle  in  the  west, 

Where  I  must  strike  against  my  sister's  son, 

Leagued  with  the  lords  of  the  White  Horse  and  knights 

Once  mine,  and  strike  him  dead,  and  meet  myself 

Death,  or  I  know  not  what  mysterious  doom. 

And  thou  remaining  here  wilt  learn  the  event ; 

But  hither  shall  I  never  come  again, 

Never  lie  by  thy  side,  see  thee  no  more. 

Farewell ! " 

And  while  she  grovell'd  at  his  feet, 
She  felt  the  King's  breath  wander  o'er  her  neck, 
And,  in  the  darkness  o'er  her  fallen  head, 
Perceived  the  waving  of  his  hands  that  blest. 

Then,  listening  till  those  armed  steps  were  gone, 
Eose  the  pale  Queen,  and  in  her  anguish  found 
The  casement :  "  Peradventure,"  so  she  thought, 
"  If  I  might  see  his  face  and  not  be  seen." 
And  lo,  he  sat  on  horseback  at  the  door  ! 


GUINEVERE.  118 

And  near  him  the  sad  nuns  with  each  a  light 
Stood,  and  he  gave  them  charge  about  the  Queen, 
To  guard  and  foster  her  for  evermore. 
And  while  he  spake  to  these  his  helm  was  lower'd, 
To  which  for  crest  the  golden  dragon  clung 
Of  Britain ;  so  she  did  not  see  the  face, 
Which  then  was  as  an  angel's,  but  she  saw, 
Wet  with  the  mists  and  smitten  by  the  lights, 
The  Dragon  of  the  great  Pendragonship 
Blaze,  making  all  the  night  a  steam  of  fire. 
And  even  then  he  turn'd  ;  and  more  and  more 
The  moony  vapor  rolling  round  the  King, 
Who  seem'd  the  phantom  of  a  Giant  in  it, 
Enwound  him  fold  by  fold,  and  made  him  gray 
And  graver,  till  himself  became  as  mist 
Before  her,  moving  ghostlike  to  his  doom. 

Then  she  stretch 'd  out  her  arms,  and  cried  aloud, 
"0  Arthur!"  there  her  voice  brake  suddenly, 
Then — as  a  stream  that  spouting  from  a  cliff 
Fills  in  mid-air,  but  gathering  at  the  base 
Re-makes  itself,  and  Hashes  down  the  vale — 
Went  on  in  passionate  utterance: 

"  Gone — my  lord  ! 
Gone  thro'  my  sin,  to  slay  and  to  be  slain  ! 
And  he  forgave  me,  and  I  could  not  speak. 
Farewell?     I  should  have  answer'd  hi-'  farewell. 
His  mercy  choked  me.     Gong,  my  lord  the  King, 
My  own  trni'  lord  !  how  dare  I  call  him  mine  ? 
The  shadow  of  another  cleaves  to  me, 
And  makes  me  one  pollution  :  he,  the  King, 
Call'd  me  polluted:  shall  1  kill  myself? 
What  help  in  that?      I  can  not  kill  my  sin, 
If  soul  be  soid  ;   nor  can  I  kill  my  shame; 
No,  nor  by  living  can  1  live  it  down. 
The  days  will  grow  to  weeks,  the  weeks  to  months. 
The  months  will  add  themselves  and  make  the  years, 


116  BRITISH  FOLK-LORE. 

The  years  will  roll  into  ihe  centuries, 
And  mine  will  ever  be  a  name  of  scorn. 
I  must  not  dwell  on  that  defeat  of  fame. 
Let  the  world  be ;  that  is  but  of  the  world. 
What  else?  what  hope?    I  think  there  was  a  hope, 
Except  he  mock'd  me  when  he  spake  of  hope ; 
His  hope  he  call'd  it ;  but  he  never  mocks, 
For  mockery  is  the  fume  of  little  hearts. 
And  blessed  be  the  King,  who  hath  forgiven 
My  wickedness  to  him,  and  left  me  hope 
That  in  mine  own  heart  I  can  live  down  sin 
And  be  his  mate  hereafter  in  the  heavens 
Before  high  God.     Ah,  great  and  gentle  lord, 
Who  wast,  as  is  the  conscience  of  a  saint 
Among  his  warring  senses,  to  thy  knights — 
To  whom  my  false  voluptuous  pride,  that  took 
Full  easily  all  impressions  from  below, 
Would  not  look  up,  or  half  despised  the  height 
To  which  I  would  not  or  I  could  not  climb — 
I  thought  I  could  not  breathe  in  that  fine  air, 
That  pure  severity  of  perfect  light — 
I  wanted  warmth  and  color,  which  I  found 
In  Lancelot — now  I  see  thee  what  thou  art : 
Thou  art  the  highest  and  most  human  too, 
Not  Lancelot,  nor  another.     Is  there  none 
Will  tell  the  King  I  love  him  tho'  so  late  ? 
Now — ere  he  goes  to  the  great  Battle  ?  none  : 
Myself  must  tell  him  in  that  purer  life, 
But  now  it  were  too  daring.     Ah,  my  God, 
What  might  I  not  have  made  of  thy  fair  world, 
Had  I  but  loved  thy  highest  creature  here  ? 
It  was  my  duty  to  have  loved  the  highest : 
It  surely  was  my  profit  had  I  known  : 
It  would  have  been  my  pleasure  had  I  seen. 
We  needs  must  love  the  highest  when  we  see  it, 
Not  Lancelot,  nor  another." 


GUINEVERE.  117 

Here  her  hand 
Grasp'd,  made  her  veil  her  eyes  :  she  look'd,  and  saw 
The  novice,  weeping,  suppliant,  and  said  to  her, 
"  Yea,  little  maid,  for  am  /  not  forgiven  V  " 
Then  glancing  up,  beheld  the  holy  nuns 
All  round  her,  weeping  ;  and  her  heart  was  loosed 
Within  her,  and  she  wept  with  these,  and  said  : 
"  Ye  know  me,  then,  that  wicked  one,  who  broke 
The  vast  design  and  purpose  of  the  King. 

0  shut  me  round  with  narrowing  nunnery  walls, 
.Meek  maidens,  from  the  voices  crying  '  Shame  ! ' 

1  must  not  scorn  myself  :  he  loves  me  still. 
Let  no  one  dream  but  that  he  loves  me  still. 
So  let  me,  if  you  do  not  shudder  at  me 
Nor  shun  to  call  me  sister,  dwell  with  you  : 
Wear  black  and  white,  and  be  a  nun  like  you ; 
Fast  with  your  fasts,  not  feasting  with  your  feasts ; 
Grieve  with  your  griefs,  not  grieving  at  your  joys, 
But  not  rejoicing  ;  mingle  with  your  rites  ; 

Pray  and  be  prayed  for;  lie  before  your  shrines; 

Do  each  low  oflice  of  your  holy  house; 

Walk  your  dim  cloister,  and  distribute  dole 

To  poor  sick  people,  richer  in  his  eyes 

Who  ransom'd  us,  and  haler  too  than  I ; 

And  treat  their  loathsome  hurts  and  heal  mine  own; 

And  so  wear  out  in  almsdeed  and  in  prayer 

The  somber  close  of  that  voluptuous  day 

Which  wrought  the  ruin  of  my  lord  the  King." 

She  said  :  they  took  her  to  themselves,  and  she, 
Still  hoping,  fearing,  "  Is  it  yet  too  late?" 
Dwelt  with  thmi,  till  in  time  their  Abbess  died. 
Thru  .die,  for  her  good  deeds  and  her  pure  life, 
And  fur  tin'  power  of  ministration  in  her, 
And  likewise  for  the  high  rank  she  had  borne, 
Was  chosen  Abbess,  there  an  Abbess  lived 


118  BRITISH  FOLK-LORE. 

For  three  brief  years,  and  there,  an  Abbess,  passed 
To  where  beyond  these  voices  there  is  peace. 


"CHILDE    ROLAND    TO    THE    DARK    TOWER    CAME." 

BY    ROBERT    BROWNING. 
I. 

My  first  thought  was,  he  lied  in  every  word, 

That  hoary  cripple,  with  malicious  eye 

Askance  to  watch  the  working  of  his  lie 
On  mine,  and  mouth  scarce  able  to  afford 
Suppression  of  the  glee  that  pursed  and  scored 

Its  edge,  at  one  more  victim  gained  thereby. 

ii. 

What  else  should  he  be  set  for,  with  his  staff? 
What,  save  to  waylay  with  his  lies,  insnare 
All  travelers  who  might  find  him  posted  there, 
And  ask  the  road  ?     I  guessed  what  skull-like  laugh 
Would  break,  what  crutch  gin  write  my  epitaph 
For  pastime  in  the  dusty  thoroughfare, 

in. 

If  at  his  counsel  I  should  turn  aside 

Into  that  ominous  tract  which,  all  agree, 
Hides  the  Dark  Tower.     Yet  acquiescingly 

I  did  turn  as  he  pointed  :  neither  pride 

Nor  hope  rekindling  at  the  end  descried, 

So  much  as  gladness  that  some  end  might  be. 

IV. 

For,  what  with  my  whole  world-wide  wandering, 

What  with  my  search  drawn  out  through  years,  my  hope 
Dwindled  into  a  ghost  not  fit  to  cope 


CHILDE  BO  LAND.  H9 

With  that  obstreperous  joy  success  would  bring, — 
I  hardly  tried  now  to  rebuke  the  spring 
My  heart  made,  finding  failure  in  its  scope. 


As  when  a  sick  man  very  near  to  death 

Seems  dead  indeed,  and  feels  begin  and  end 
The  tears,  and  takes  the  farewell  of  each  friend, 
And  hears  one  bid  the  other  go,  draw  breath, 
Freelier  outside  ("  since  all  is  o'er,"  he  saith, 

"  And  the  blow  fallen  no  grieving  can  amend  ") ; 

VI. 

While  some  discuss  if  near  the  other  graves 
Be  room  enough  for  this,  and  when  a  day 
Suits  best  for  carrying  the  corpse  away, 
With  care  about  the  bauners,  scarves,  and  staves : 
And  still  the  man  hears  all,  and  only  craves 
lie  may  not  shame  such  tender  love,  and  stay. 

VII. 

Thus,  I  had  so  long  suffered  in  this  quest, 

Heard  fail  arc  prophesied  so  oft,  been  writ 
So  many  times  among  "  The  Band  " — to  wit, 
The  knights  who  to  the  Dark  Tower's  search  addressed 
Their  steps — that  just  to  fail  as  they,  seemed  best, 
And  all  the  doubt  was  now  should  I  be  fit  ? 

v  1 1  i . 

So,  quiet  as  despair,  I  turned  from  him, 
That  hateful  cripple,  out  of  his  highway 
Into  the  path  he  pointed.     All  the  day 
Had  been  a  dreary  one  at  best,  and  dim 
Was  settling  to  its  close,  yet  shot  one  grim 
lied  leer  to  see  the  plain  catch  its  estray. 


120  BRITISH  FOLK-LORE. 

IX. 

For  mark  !  no  sooner  was  I  fairly  found 
Pledged  to  the  plain,  after  a  pace  or  two, 
Than,  pausing  to  throw  backward  a  last  view 
O'er  the  safe  road,  'twas  gone  ;  gray  plain  all  round : 
Nothing  but  plain  to  the  horizon's  bound. 
I  might  go  on  :  naught  else  remained  to  do. 

x 

So,  on  I  went.     I  think  I  never  saw 

Such  starved  ignoble  nature  ;  nothing  throve 
For  flowers — as  well  expect  a  cedar  grove  ! 
But  cockle,  spurge,  according  to  their  law 
Might  propagate  their  kind,  with  none  to  awe, 
You'd  think  ;  a  burr  had  been  a  treasure  trove. 

xr. 

No  !  penury,  inertness,  and  grimace, 

In  some  strange  sort,  were  the  land's  portion.     "  See, 
Or  shut  your  eyes,"  said  Nature  peevishly, 
"  It  nothing  skills  :  I  can  not  help  my  case  : 
'Tis  the  Last  Judgment's  tire  must  cure  this  place, 
Calcine  its  clods  and  set  my  prisoners  free." 

XIT. 

If  there  pushed  any  ragged  thistle-stalk 

Above  its  mates,  the  head  was  chopped  ;  the  bents 
Were  jealous  else.     What  made  those  holes  and  rents 
In  the  dock's  harsh  swarth  leaves,  bruised  as  to  balk 
All  hope  of  greenness?  'tis  a  brute  must  walk 
Pashing  their  life  out,  with  a  brute's  intents. 

XIII. 

As  for  the  grass,  it  grew  as  scant  as  hair 

In  leprosy  :  thin  dry  blades  pricked  the  mud 
Which  underneath  looked  kneaded  up  with  blood. 


CHILDE  ROLAND.  1 2 1 

One  stiff  blind  horse,  his  every  bone  a-stare, 
Stood  stupefied,  however  he  came  there : 

Thrust  out  past  service  from  the  Devil's  stud ! 

XIV. 

Alive?  he  might  be  dead  for  aught  I  know, 

With  that  red  gaunt  and  colloped  neck  a-strain, 
And  shut  eyes  underneath  the  rusty  mane ; 

Seldom  went  such  grotesqueness  with  such  woe ; 

I  never  saw  a  brute  I  hated  so ; 

He  must  be  wicked  to  deserve  such  pain. 

xv. 

I  shut  my  eyes  and  turned  them  on  my  heart. 
As  a  man  calls  for  wine  before  he  fights, 
I  asked  one  draught  of  earlier,  happier  sights, 

Ere  fitly  I  could  hope  to  play  my  part. 

Think  first,  fight  afterwards — the  soldier's  art : 
One  taste  of  the  old  time  sets  all  to  rights. 

XVI. 

Not  it !     I  fancied  Cuthbert*s  reddening  face 

Beneath  its  garniture  of  curly  gold, 

Dear  fellow,  till  I  almost  felt  him  fold 
An  arm  in  mine  to  fix  me  to  the  place, 
That  way  he  used.     Alas,  one  night's  disgrace ! 

Out  went  my  heart's  new  fire  and  left  it  cold. 

x  v  1 1 . 

Giles  then,  the  soul  of  honor — there  he  stands 
Frank  as  ten  years  ago  when  knighted  first. 
What  honest  man  should  dare  (lie  said), he  durst. 
Good — but  the  scene  shifts— faugh  !  what,  hangman  hands 
Pin  to  Ins  breast  a  parchment?     His  own  hands 
Read  it.     Poor  traitor,  spit  upon  and  curst! 


122  BRITISH  FOLK-LORE. 

XVIII. 

Better  this  present  than  a  past  like  that ; 

Back  therefore  to  my  darkening  path  again ! 

No  sound,  no  sight  as  far  as  eye  could  strain. 
Will  the  night  send  a  howlet  or  a  bat  ? 
I  asked :  when  something  on  the  dismal  flat 

Came  to  arrest  my  thoughts  and  change  their  train. 

XIX. 

A  sudden  little  river  crossed  my  path 

As  unexpected  as  a  serpent  comes. 

No  sluggish  tide  congenial  to  the  glooms  ; 
This,  as  it  frothed  by,  might  have  been  a  bath 
For  the  fiend's  glowing  hoof — to  see  the  wrath 

Of  its  black  eddy  bespate  with  flakes  and  spumes. 

xx. 

So  petty  yet  so  spiteful !     All  along, 

Low  scrubby  alders  kneeled  down  over  it ; 
Drenched  willows  flung  them  headlong  in  a  fit 
Of  mute  despair,  a  suicidal  throng : 
The  river  which  had  done  them  all  the  wrong, 
Whate'er  that  was,  rolled  by,  deterred  no  whit. 

XXI. 

Which,  while  I  forded, — good  saints,  how  I  feared 
To  set  my  foot  upon  a  dead  man's  cheek, 
Each  step,  or  feel  the  spear  I  thrust  to  seek 

For  hollows,  tangled  in  his  hair  or  beard ! 

— It  may  have  been  a  water-rat  I  speared, 
But,  ugh  !  it  sounded  like  a  baby's  shriek. 

XXII. 

Glad  was  I  when  I  reached  the  other  bank. 
Now  for  a  better  country.     Vain  presage  ! 
Who  were  the  stragglers,  what  war  did  they  wage 


CHILDE  ROLAND.  123 

Whose  savage  trample  thus  could  pad  the  dank 
Soil  to  a  plash  ?     Toads  in  a  poisoned  tank, 
Or  wild  cats  in  a  red-hot  iron  cage — 

XXIII. 

The  fight  must  so  have  seemed  in  that  fell  cirque. 

What  penned  them  there,  with  all  the  plain  to  choose  ? 

No  footprint  leading  to  that  horrid  mews, 
None  out  of  it.     Mad  brewage  set  to  work 
Their  brains,  no  doubt,  like  galley-slaves  the  Turk 

Pits  for  his  pastime,  Christians  against  Jews. 

xxiv. 

And  more  than  that— a  furlong  on — why,  there  ! 
What  bad  use  was  that  engine  for  that  wheel, 
Or  brake,  not  wheel — that  harrow  fit  to  reel 

Men's  bodies  out  like  silk?  with  all  the  air 

Of  Tophet's  tool,  on  earth  left  unaware, 

Or  brought  to  sharpen  its  rusty  teeth  of  steel. 

XXV. 

Then  came  a  bit  of  stubbed  ground,  once  a  wood, 
Next  a  marsh,  it  would  seem,  and  now  mere  earth 
Desperate  and  done  with  ;  (so  a  fool  finds  mirth, 
M;ik<->  a  thing  and  then  mars  it,  till  his  mood 
Changes  and  off  he  goes !)  ;  within  a  rood — 

Bog,  clay,  and  rubble,  sand  and  stark  black  dearth. 

XXVI. 

Now  blotches  rankling,  colored  gay  and  grim, 
Now  patches  where  Bome  leanness  of  the  soil's 
Broke  into  moss  or  substances  like  boils  ; 

Then  came  some  palsied  oak,  a  cleft  in  him 

Like  a  distorted  mouth  that  splits  its  rim 
Gaping  at  death,  and  dies  while  it  recoils. 


124  BRITISH  FOLK- WEE. 

XXVII. 

And  just  as  far  as  ever  from  the  end  : 

Naught  in  the  distance  but  the  evening,  naught 
To  point  my  footstep  further !    At  the  thought 
A  great  black  bird,  Apollyon's  bosom  friend, 
Sailed  past,  nor  beat  his  wide  wing  dragon-penned 
That  brushed  my  cap — perchance  the  guide  I  sought. 

XXVIII. 

For,  looking  up,  aware  I  somehow  grew, 

'Spite  of  the  dusk,  the  plain  had  given  place 

All  round  to  mountains — with  such  name  to  grace 

Mere  ugly  heights  and  heaps  now  stolen  in  view. 

How  thus  they  had  surprised  me, — solve  it,  you  ! 
How  to  get  from  them  was  no  clearer  case. 

XXIX. 

Yet  half  I  seemed  to  recognize  some  trick 

Of  mischief  happened  to  me,  God  knows  when — 
In  a  bad  dream,  perhaps.     Here  ended,  then, 
Progress  this  way.     When,  in  the  very  nick 
Of  giving  up,  one  time  more,  came  a  click 
As  when  a  trap  shuts — you're  inside  the  den. 

XXX. 

Burningly  it  came  on  me  all  at  once, 

This  was  the  place  !  those  two  hills  on  the  right 
Crouched  like  two  bulls  locked  horn  in  horn  in  fight ; 

While  to  the  left  a  tall  scalped  mountain  .  .  .  Dunce, 

Dotard,  a-dozing  at  the  very  nonce, 

After  a  life  spent  training  for  the  sight ! 

XXXI. 

What  in  the  midst  lay  but  the  Tower  itself  ? 

The  round,  squat  turret,  blind  as  the  fool's  heart, 
Built  of  brown  stone,  without  a  counterpart 


THE  VOYAGE  OF  MAELDUNE.  125 

In  the  whole  world.     The  tempest's  mocking  elf 
Points  to  the  shipman  thus  the  unseen  shelf 
He  strikes  on,  only  when  the  timbers  start. 

XXXII. 

Not  see  ?  because  of  night,  perhaps  ? — why,  day 
Came  back  again  for  that !  before  it  left, 
The  dying  sunset  kindled  through  a  cleft  : 
The  hills,  like  giants  at  a  hunting,  lay, 
Chin  upon  hand,  to  see  the  game  at  bay, — 

"  Now  stab  and  end  the  creature — to  the  heft ! " 

XXXIII. 

Not  hear  ?  when  noise  was  everywhere  !  it  tolled 
Increasing  like  a  bell.     Names  in  my  ears 
Of  all  the  lost  adventurers  my  peers, — 

How  such  a  one  was  strong,  and  such  was  bold, 

And  such  was  fortunate,  yet  each  of  old 

Lost,  lost !  one  moment  knelled  the  woe  of  years. 

xxxiv. 

There  they  stood,  ranged  along  the  hillsides,  met 
To  view  the  last  of  me,  a  living  frame 
For  one  more  picture  !  In  a  sheet  of  flame 

I  saw  them  and  I  knew  them  all.     And  yet 

Dauntless  the  slug-horn  to  my  lips  I  set, 

And  blew  "  Chilcle  Roland  to  the  Dark  Tower  rame." 


THE  VOYAGE  OF  MAELDUNE. 

BY   ALFRED,    LORD   TENNYSON. 
I. 

I  was  the  chief  of  the  race  -he  had  stricken  my  father  dead 
But  I  gather'd   my  fellows  together,  1  swore  I  would  strike 
off  his  head. 


126  BRITISH  FOLK-LORE. 

Each  of  them  look'd  like  a  king,  and  was  noble  in  birth  as  in 
worth, 

And  each  of  them  boasted  he  sprang  from  the  oldest  race 
upon  earth. 

Each  was  as  brave  in  the  fight  as  the  bravest  hero  of  song, 

And  each  of  them  liefer  had  died  than  have  done  one  an- 
other a  wrong. 

He  lived  on  an  isle  in  the  ocean — we  sail'd  on  a  Friday 
morn — 

He  that  had  slain  my  father  the  day  before  I  was  born. 

II. 

And  we  came  to  the  isle  in  the  ocean,  and  there  on  the  shore 

was  he. 
But  a  sudden  blast  blew  us  out  and  away  thro'  a  boundless 

sea. 

in. 

And  we  came  to  the  Silent  Isle  that  we  never  had  touch'd  at 

before, 
Where  a  silent  ocean  always  broke  on  a  silent  shore, 
And  the  brooks  glitter'd  on  in  the  light  without  sound,  and 

the  long  waterfalls 
Pour'd  in  a  thunderless  plunge  to  the  base  of  the  mountain 

walls, 
And  the  poplar  and  cypress  unshaken  by  storm  flourish'd  up 

beyond  sight, 
And  the  pine  shot  aloft  from  the  crag  to  an  unbelievable 

height, 
And  high  in  the  heaven  above  it  there  flicker'd  a  songless 

lark, 
And  the  cock  couldn't  crow,  and  the  bull  couldn't  low,  and 

the  dog  couldn't  bark. 
And  round  it  we  went,  and  thro'  it,  but  never  a  murmur,  a 

breath — 
It  was  all  of  it  fair  as  life,  it  was  all  of  it  quiet  as  death, 


THE  VOYAGE  OF  MAELDUJVE.  127 

And  we  hated  the  beautiful  Isle,  for  whenever  we  strove  to 

speak 
Our  voices  were  thinner  and  fainter  than  any  flitter-mouse 

shriek ; 
And  the  men  that  were  mighty  of  tongue  and  could  raise 

such  a  battle-cry 
That  a  hundred  who  heard  it  would  rush  on  a  thousand 

lances  and  die — 
0  they  to  be  dumb'd  by  the  charm ! — so  fluster'd  with  anger 

were  they 
They  almost  fell  on  each  other ;  but  after  we  sail'd  away. 

IV. 

And  we  came  to  the  Isle  of  Shouting,  we  landed,  a  score  of 

wild  birds 
Cried  from  the  topmost  summit  with  human  voices  and  words; 
Once  in  an  hour  they  cried,  and  whenever  their  voices  peal'd 
The  steer  fell  down  at  the  plow  and  the  harvest  died  from 

the  field, 
And  the  men  dropt  dead  in  the  valleys  and  half  of  the  cattle 

went  lame, 
And  the  roof  sank  in  on  the  hearth,  and  the  dwelling  broke 

into  flame ; 
And  the  shouting  of  these  wild  birds  ran  into  the  hearts  of 

my  crew, 
Till  they  shouted  along  with  the  shouting  and  seized  one 

another  and  slew ; 
But   I   drew  them   the  one  from  the  other;   I  saw  that  we 

could  not  stay, 
And  we  left  the  dead  to  the  birds,  and  we  sail'd  with  our 

wounded  away. 

v. 
And  we  came  to  the  Isle  of  Flowers :  their  breath  met  us  out 

on  the  seas, 
For  the  Spring  and  the  middle  Summer  sat  each  on  the  lap 

of  the  breeze ; 


128  BRITISH  FOLK-LORE. 

And  the  red  passion-flower  to  the  cliffs,  and  the  dark-blue 

clematis  clung, 
And  starr'd   with  a  myriad  blossom  the  long  convolvulus 

hung; 
And  the  topmost  spire  of  the  mountain  was  lilies  in  lieu  of 

snow, 
And  the  lilies  like  glaciers  winded  down,  running  out  below 
Thro'  the  fire  of  the  tulip  and  poppy,  the  blaze  of  gorse,  and 

the  blush 
Of  millions  of  roses  that  sprang  without    leaf  or  a  thorn 

from  the  bush. 
And  the  whole  isle-side  flashing  down  from  the  peak  without 

ever  a  tree 
Swept  like  a  torrent  of  gems  from  the  sky  to  the  blue  of  the 

sea; 
And  we  roll'd  upon  capes  of  crocus  and  vaunted  our  kith 

and  our  kin, 
And  we  wallow'd  in  beds  of  lilies,  and  chanted  the  triumph 

of  Finn, 
Till  each  like  a  golden  image  was  pollen'd  from  head  to  feet, 
And  each  was  as  dry  as  a  cricket,  with  thirst  in  the  middle- 
day  heat. 
Blossom  and  blossom,  and  promise  of  blossom,  but  never  a 

fruit ! 
And  we  hated  the  Flowering  Isle,  as  we  hated  the  isle  that 

was  mute, 
And  we  tore  up  the  flowers  by  the  million  and  flung  them  in 

bight  and  bay, 
And  we  left  but  a  naked  rock,  and  in  anger  we  sail'd  away. 

VI. 

And  we  came  to  the  Isle  of  Fruits  :  all  round  from  the  cliffs 

and  the  capes, 
Purple  or  amber,  dangled  a  hundred  fathom  of  grapes, 
And  the  warm  melon  lay  like  a  little  sun  on  the  tawny  sand, 
And  the  fig  ran  up  from  the  beech  and  rioted  over  the  land, 


TEE  VOYAGE  OF  MAELDUNE.  129 

And  the  mountain  arose  like  a  jewel'd  throne  thro'  the  fra- 
grant air, 
Glowing  with  all-color'd   plums  and  with  golden  masses  of 

pear, 
And  the  crimson  and  scarlet  of  berries  that  flamed  upon  bine 

and  vine, 
But  in  every  berry  and  fruit  was  the  poisonous  pleasure  of 

wine  ; 
And  the  peak  of  the  mountain  was  apples,  the  hugest  that 

ever  were  seen, 
And  they  prest,  as  they  grew,  on  each  other,  with  hardly  a 

leaflet  between, 
And  all  of  them  redder  than  rosiest  health  or  than  utterest 

shame, 
And  setting,  when  Even  descended,  the  very  sunset  aflame ; 
And  we  stay'd  three  days,  and  we  gorged  and  we  madden'd, 

till  every  one  drew 
His  sword  on  his  fellow  to  slay  him,  and  ever  they  struck  and 

they  slew  ; 
And  myself,  I  had  eaten  but  sparely,  and  fought  till  1-  sun- 

der'd  the  fray, 
Then  I  bade  them  remember  my  father's  death,  and  we  sail'd 

away. 

VII. 

And  we  came  to  the  Isle  of  Fire:  we  were  lured  by  the  light 

from  afar, 
For  the  peak  sent  up  one  league  of  fire  to  the  Northern  Star; 
Lured  by  the  glare  and   the  blare,  but  scarcely  could  stand 

upright, 
For  the   whole    isle  shudder'd  and  shook  like  a  man  in  a 

mortal  affrighi  ; 
We  were  giddy  besides  with  the  fruits  we  had  gorged,  and  so 

crazed,  that  at  la 
There  were  some leap'd  into  the  fire;  and  away  we  sail'd, and 

we  passed 

FOLK-LORE  9 


ISO  BRITISH  FOLK-LORE. 

Over  that  undersea  isle,  where  the  water  is  clearer  than  air  : 
Down  we  look'd  :  what  a  garden !     0  bliss,  what  a  Paradise 

there ! 
Towers  of  a  happier  time,  low  down  in  a  rainbow  deep 
Silent  palaces,  quiet  fields  of  eternal  sleep  ! 
And  three  of  the  gentlest  and  best  of  my  people,  whate'er  I 

could  say, 
Plunged  head  down  in  the  sea,  and  the  Paradise  trembled 

away. 

VIII. 

And  we  came  to  the  Bounteous  Isle,  where  the  heavens  lean 

low  on  the  land, 
And  ever  at  dawn  from  the  cloud  glitter'd  o'er  us  a  sunbright 

hand, 
Then  it  open'd  and  dropt  at  the  side  of  each  man,  as  he  rose 

from  his  rest, 
Bread  enough  for  his  need  till  the  laborless  day  dipt  under 

the  West ; 
And  we  wander'd  about  it  and  thro'  it.    0  never  was  time  so 

good  ! 
And  we  sang  of  the  triumphs  of  Finn,  and  the  boast  of  our 

ancient  blood, 
And  we  gazed  at  the  wandering  wave  as  we  sat  by  the  gurgle 

of  springs, 
And  we  chanted   the  songs  of  the  bards  and  the  glories  of 

fairy  kings; 
But  at  length  we  began  to  be  weary,  to  sigh,  and  to  stretch 

and  yawn, 
Till  we  hated  the  Bounteous  Isle  and  the  sunbright  hand  of 

the  dawn, 
For  there  was  not  an  enemy  near,  but  the  whole  green  isle 

was  our  own, 
And  we  took  to  playing  at  ball,  and  we  took  to  throwing 

the  stone, 
And  we  took  to  playing  at  battle,  but  that  was  a  perilous  play, 
For  the  passion  of  battle  was  in  us,  we  slew  and  we  sail'd  away. 


THE  VOYAGE  OF  MAELDUJYE.  131 

IX. 

And  we  passed  the  Isle  of  Witches,  and  heard  their  musical 

cry: 
';  Come  to  us,  0  come,  come  !  "  in  the  stormy  red  of  a  sky 
Dashing  the  fires  and  the  shadows  of  dawn  on  the  beautiful 

shapes, 
For  a  wild  witch  naked  as  heaven  stood  on   each  of   the 

loftiest  capes, 
And  a  hundred  ranged  on  the  rock  like  white  sea-birds  in  a 

row, 
And  a  hundred  gambol'd  and  pranced  on  the  wrecks  in  the 

sand  below, 
And  a  hundred  splash 'd  from  the  ledges,  and  bosom'd  the 

burst  of  the  spray, 
But  I  knew  we  should  fall  on  each  other,  and  hastily  sail'd 

away. 

x. 

And  we  came  in  an  evil   time  to  the   Isle  of  the  Double 

Towers : 
One   wa3  of  smooth-cut  stone,   one   carved    all  over  with 

flowers  : 
But  an  earthquake  always  moved  in  the  hollows  under  the 

dells, 
And  they  shock'd  on  each  other  and  butted  each  other  with 

clashing  of  bells, 
And    the   daws   flew  out  of    the   Towers   and   jangled    and 

wrangled  in  vain, 
And  the  clash  and  boom  of  the  bells  rang  into  the  heart  and 

the  brain, 
Till  the  passion  of  battle  was  on  us,  and  all  took  sides  with 

the  Tower.-, 
There  were  some   for  the  clean-cut  stone,  there  were  more 

for  the  carven  flowers, 
And  the  wrathful  thunder  of  God  peal'd  over  as  :ill  the  day, 
For  the  one  half  slew  the  other,  and  after  we  sail'd  away. 


132  BRITISH  FOLK-LORE. 

XI. 

And  we  came  to  the  Isle  of  a  Saint  who  had  sail'd  with  St. 

Brendan  of  yore  ; 
He  had  lived  ever  since  on  the  isle,  and  his  winters  were 

fifteen  score, 
And  his  voice  was  low  as  from  other  worlds,   and   his  eyes 

were  sweet, 
And  his  white  hair  sank  to  his  heels,  and  his  white  beard  fell 

to  his  feet, 
And  he  spake  to  me  :  "  0  Maeldune,  let  be  this  purpose  of 

thine ! 
Remember  the  words  of  the  Lord  when  he  told  us  '  Venge- 
ance is  mine !' 
His  fathers  have  slain  thy  fathers  in  war  or  in  single  strife, 
Thy  fathers  have  slain  his  fathers,  each  taken  a  life  for  a 

life ; 
Thy  father  had  slain  his  father — how  long  shall  the  murder 

last? 
Go  back  to  the  Isle  of  Finn  and  suffer  the  Past  to  be  Past." 
And  we  kiss'd  the  fringe  of  his  beard,  and  we  pray'd  as  we 

heard  him  pray, 
And  the  holy  man  he  assoil'd  us,  and  sadly  we  sail'd  away. 

XII. 

And  we  came  to  the  Isle  we  were  blown  from,  and  there  on 

the  shore  was  he, 
The  man  that  had  slain  my  father.     I  saw  him  and  let  him 

be. 
0  weary  was  I  of  the  travel,  the  trouble,  the  strife,  and  the 

sin, 
When  I  landed  again,  with  a  tithe  of  my  men,  on  the  Isle  of 

Finn. 


MADOC.  133 

MADOC. 

BY    KOBERT    SOUTHEY. 

XVII. 
THE    DEPARTURE. 

"Winter  hath  passed  away ;  the  vernal  storms 

Have  spent  their  rage  ;  the  ships  are  stored,  and  now 

To-morrow  they  depart.     That  day  a  boy, 

Weary  and  foot-sore,  to  Aberfraw  came, 

Who  to  Goervyl's  chamber  made  his  way, 

And  caught  the  hem  of  her  garment,  and  exclaimed, 

"  A  boon,  a  boon,  dear  Lady  !  "     Nor  did  he 

Wait  more  reply  than  that  encouragement 

Which  her  sweet  eye  and  lovely  smile  bestowed: 

"  I  am  a  poor,  unhappy,  orphan  boy, 

Born  to  fair  promises  and  better  hopes, 

But  now  forlorn.     Take  me  to  be  your  page. 

For  blessed  Mary's  sake,  refuse  me  not ! 

1  have  no  friend  on  earth  nor  hope  but  this." 

The  boy  was  fair  ;  and  though  his  eyes  were  swoln, 
And  cheek  defiled  with  tears,  and  though  Ids  voice 
Came  choked  by  grief,  yet  to  that  earnest  eye, 
And  supplicating  voice  so  musical, 
It  had  not  sure  been  easy  to  refuse 
The  boon  he  begged.     "  I  can  not  grant  thy  suit," 
Goervyl  cried,  "hut  I  can  aid  it,  boy! 
Go,  ask  of  Madoc  !"     And  herself  arose 
And  led  him  where  her  brother,  on  the  shore, 
That  day  the  lasl  embarkment  oversaw. 
Mervvn  then  took  hi-  mantle  by  the  skirt, 
And  knelt  and  made  his  suit;  she,  too,  began 
To  sue;  but  Madoc,  smiling  on  the  maid, 
Won  by  the  virtue  of  the  countenance 
Which  looked  for  favor,  lightly  gave  the  yes. 


134  BRITISH  FOLK- LOBE. 

Where  wert  thou,  Garadoc,  when  that  fair  boy 
Told  his  false  tale  ?  for,  hadst  thou  heard  the  voice, 
The  geutle  voice,  so  musically  sweet, 
And  seen  that  earnest  eye,  it  would  have  healed 
Thy  wounded  heart,  and  thou  hadst  voyaged  on, 
The  happiest  man  that  ever  yet  forsook 
His  native  country.     He,  on  board  the  bark, 
Leaned  o'er  the  vessel-side,  and  there  he  stood 
And  gazed,  almost  unconscious  that  he  gazed, 
Toward  you  distant  mountains  where  she  dwelt — 
Seneua,  his  beloved.     Caradoc, 
Senena,  thy  beloved,  is  at  hand, 
Her  golden  locks  are  clipped,  and  her  blue  eye 
Is  wandering  through  the  throng  in  search  of  thee, 
For  whose  dear  sake  she  hath  forsaken  all. 
You  deem  her  false,  that  her  frail  constancy 
Shrunk  from  her  father's  anger,  that  she  lives 
Another's  victim-bride  :  but  she  hath  fled 
From  that  unnatural  anger — hath  escaped 
The  unnatural  union  ;  she  is  on  the  shore, 
Senena,  blue-eyed  maid,  a  seemly  boy, 
To  share  thy  fortunes,  to  reward  thy  love, 
And  to  the  land  of  peace  to  follow  thee, 
Over  the  ocean- waves. 

Now  all  is  done. 
Stores,  beeves  and  flocks  and  water,  all  aboard  ; 
The  dry  East  blows,  and  not  a  sign  of  change 
Stains  the  clear  firmament.     The  Sea  Lord  sate 
At  the  last  banquet  in  his  brother's  court, 
And  heard  the  song.     It  told  of  Owen's  fame, 
When  with  his  Normen  and  assembled  force 
Of  G-uienne  and  Gascony,  and  Anjou's  strength, 
The  Fleming's  aid,  and  England's  chosen  troops, 
Along  the  ascent  of  Berwyn,  many  a  day 
The  Saxon  vainly  on  his  mountain  foes 
Denounced  his  wrath  ;  for  Mona's  dragon-sons, 


MADOC.  1 3S 

By  wary  patience,  baffled  long  his  force, 

Winning  slow  Famine  to  their  aid,  and  helped 

By  the  angry  Elements,  and  Sickness  sent 

From  Heaven,  and  Fear,  that  of  its  vigor  robbed 

The  healthy  arm  ;  then  in  quick  enterprise 

Fell  on  his  weary  and  disheartened  host, 

Till  with  defeat  and  loss  and  obloquy 

He  tied  with  all  his  nations.     Madoc  gave 

His  spirit  to  the  song  ;  he  felt  the  theme 

In  every  pulse  ;  the  recollection  came, 

Revived  and  heightened  to  intenser  pain, 

That  in  Aberi'raw,  in  his  father's  hall, 

He  never  more  should  share  the  feast,  nor  hear 

The  echoing  harp  again.     Ilis  heart  was  full ; 

And,  yielding  to  its  yearnings,  in  that  mood 

Of  awful  feeling,  he  called  forth  the  King, 

And  led  him  from  the  palace-porch,  and  stretched 

His  hand  toward  the  ocean,  and  exclaimed: 

"To-morrow  over  yon  wide  waves  I  go; 

To-morrow,  never  to  return,  I  leave 

My  native  land  !  0  David  !  O  my  brother  ! 

Turn  not  impatiently  a  reckless  ear 

To  that  affectionate  and  natural  voice 

Which  thou  wilt  hear  no  more  !    Release  our  brethren  ; 

Recall  the  wanderers  home;  and  link  them  to  thee 

By  cordial  confidence,  by  benefits 

Which  bless  the  benefactor.     Be  not  thou 

As  is  the  black  and  melancholy  yew, 

Thai  strikes  into  the  grave  its  baleful  roots, 

And  prospers  on  the  dead  !     The  Saxon  King, — 

Think  Dot  !  wrong  him  now;  an  hour  like  this 

Hath  softened  all  my  nan  tier  feelings  down; 

Nor  will  I  lialc  him  for  his  sister's  sake, 

Thy  gentle  Queen — whom,  thai  great  God  may  bless, 

And,  blessing  her,  bless  thee  and  our  dear  country, 

Shall  never  be  forgotten  in  my  prayers. 


136  BRITISH  FOLK-LORE. 

But  he  is  far  away ;  and,  should  there  come 
The  evil  hour  upon  thee, — if  thy  kin, 
Wearied  by  suffering  and  driven  desperate, 
Should  lift  the  sword,  or  young  Llewelyn  raise 
His  banner,  and  demand  his  father's  throne, — 
Were  it  not  trusting  to  a  broken  reed 
To  lean  on  England's  aid  ?     I  urge  thee  not 
For  answer  now  ;  but  sometimes,  0  my  brother ! 
Sometimes  recall  to  mind  my  parting  words, 
As  'twere  the  death-bed  counsel  of  the  friend 
Who  loved  thee  best ! " 

The  affection  of  his  voice, 
So  mild  and  solemn,  softened  David's  heart : 
He  saw  his  brother's  eyes,  suffused  with  tears, 
Shine  in  the  moonbeam  as  he  spake.     The  King 
Remembered  his  departure,  and  he  felt 
Feelings  which  long  from  his  disnatured  breast 
Ambition  had  expelled  :  he  could  almost 
Have  followed  their  strong  impulse.     From  the  shore, 
Madoc  with  quick  and  agitated  step 
Had  sought  his  home;  the  monarch  went  his  way 
Serious  and  slow,  and  laid  him  down  that  night 
With  painful  recollections,  and  such  thoughts 
As  might,  if  Heaven  had  willed  it,  have  matured 
To  penitence  and  peace. 

The  day  is  come ; 
The  adventurers  in  St.  Cybi's  holy  fane 
Hear  the  last  Mass,  and  all  assoiled  of  sin, 
Partake  the  bread  of  Christian  fellowship. 
Then,  as  the  Priest  his  benediction  gave, 
They  knelt,  in  such  an  awful  stillness  hushed, 
As  with  yet  more  oppression  seemed  to  load 
The  burdened  heart.     At  times,  and  half  suppressed, 
Womanly  sobs  were  heard,  and  manly  cheeks 
Were  wet  with  silent  tears.     Now  forth  they  go, 
And  at  the  portal  of  the  church  unfurl 


MADOC.  137 

Prince  Madoo's  banner  :  at  that  sight,  a  shout 
Burst  from  his  followers,  and  the  hills  and  rocks 
Thrice  echoed  their  acclaim. 

There  lie  the  ships, 
Their  sails  all  loose,  their  streamers  rolling  out 
With  sinuous  flow  and  swell,  like  water-snakes, 
Curling  aloft ;  the  waves  are  gay  with  boats — 
Pinnace  and  barge  and  coracle ;  the  sea 
Swarms,  like  the  shore,  with  life.     Oh,  what  a  sight 
Of  beauty  for  the  spirit  unconcerned, 
If  heart  there  be  which  unconcerned  could  view 
A  sight  like  this  ! — how  yet  more  beautiful 
For  him  whose  soul  can  feel  and  understand 
The  solemn  import !     Yonder  they  embark — 
Youth,  beauty,  valor,  virtue,  reverend  age — 
Some  led  by  love  of  noble  enterprise ; 
Others,  who,  desperate  of  their  country's  weal, 
Ply  from  the  impending  yoke;  all  warm  alike 
With  confidence  and  high  heroic  hope, 
And  all  in  one  fraternal  bond  conjoined 
By  reverence  to  their  Chief,  the  best  "beloved 
That  ever  yet  on  hopeful  enterprise 
Led  gallant  army  forth,     tie,  even  now 
Lord  of  himself,  by  faith  in  Cod  and  love 
To  man,  subdues  the  feeling  of  this  hour, 
The  bitteresl  of  his  being.     At  this  time, 
Pale,  and  with  feverish  eve,  the  King  came  up, 
And  led  him  somewhat  from  the  throng  apart, 
Saying:  "I  sent  at  daybreak  to  release 
Rodri  from  prison,  meaning  that  with  th 
He  should  depart,  in  peacG  :    hut  be  was  gone  ; 
This  very  night  he  had  escaped.     Perchance — 
As  I  do  hope — it  was  thy  doing,  Madoc? 
Is  he  aboard  the  fleet  ?  " 

"  I  would  lie  \ww  !  " 
Madoc  replied  ;  "  with  what  a  lightened  heart 


138  BRITISH  FOLK-LORE. 

Then  should  I  sail  away !     Ririd  is  there 

Alone ;  alas  that  this  was  done  so  late  !  " 

"  Keproach  me  not !  "  half  sullenly  the  King, 

Answering,  exclaimed  ;  "  Madoc,  reproach  me  not ! 

Thou  know'st  how  hardly  I  attained  the  throne ; 

And  is  it  strange  that  I  should  guard  with  fear 

The  precious  prize  ?     Now,  when  I  would  have  taken 

Thy  counsel,  be  the  evil  on  his  head  ! 

Blame  me  not  now,  my  brother,  lest  sometimes 

I  call  again  to  mind  thy  parting  words 

In  sorrow ! " 

"  God  be  with  thee  !  "  Madoc  cried ; 
"  And  if  at  times  the  harshness  of  a  heart 
Too  prone  to  wrath  have  wronged  thee,  let  these  tears 
Efface  all  faults.     I  leave  thee,  0  my  brother  ! 
With  all  a  brother's  feelings." 

So  he  said, 
And  grasped,  with  trembling  tenderness,  his  hand, 
Then  calmed  himself,  and  moved  toward  the  boat. 
Emma,  though  tears  would  have  their  way  and  sighs 
Would  swell,  suppressing  still  all  words  of  woe, 
Followed  Goervyl  to  the  extremest  shore. 
But  then,  as  on  the  plank  the  maid  set  foot, 
Did  Emma,  staying  her  by  the  hand,  pluck  out 
The  crucifix,  which  next  her  heart  she  wore 
In  reverence  to  its  relic,  and  she  cried  : 
"  Yet,  ere  we  part,  change  with  me,  dear  Goervyl ! 
Dear  sister !  loved  too  well,  or  lost  too  soon  ! 
I  shall  betake  me  often  to  my  prayers — 
Never  in  them,  Goervyl,  of  thy  name 
Unmindful ;  thou,  too,  wilt  remember  me 
Still  in  thine  orisons.     But  God  forefend 
That  ever  misery  should  make  thee  find 
This  cross  thy  only  comforter  !  " 

She  said, 
And  kissed  the  holy  pledge,  as  each  to  each 


MJDOC.  139 

Transferred  the  mutual  gift.     Nor  could  the  maid 

Answer,  for  agony,  to  that  farewell : 

She  held  Queen  Emma  to  her  breast,  and  close 

She  clasped  her  with  a  strong,  convulsive  sob, 

Silently.     Madoc,  too,  in  silence  went, 

But  pressed  a  kiss  on  Emma's  lips,  and  left 

His  tears  upon  her  cheek.     With  dizzy  eyes, 

Gazing  she  stood,  now  saw  the  boat  push  off. 

The  dashing  of  the  oars  awakened  her : 

She  wipes  her  tears  away,  to  view  once  more 

Those  dear  familiar  faces  ;  they  are  dim 

In  the  distance  :  never  shall  her  waking  eye 

Behold  them,  till  the  hour  of  happiness, 

When  death  hath  made  her  pure  for  perfect  bliss  ! 

Two  hearts  alone  of  all  that  company, 
Of  all  the  thousands  who  beheld  the  scene, 
Partook  unmingled  joy.     Dumb  with  delight, 
Young  Hoel  views  the  ships,  and  feels  the  boat 
Rock  on  the  heaving  waves  ;  and  Llaian  felt 
Comfort — though  sad,  yet  comfort — that  for  her 
No  eye  was  left  to  weep  nor  heart  to  mourn. 

Hark  !  tis  the  mariners,  with  voice  attuned, 
Timing  their  toil ;  and  now,  with  gentle  gales, 
Slow  from  the  holy  haven  they  depart. 

xvnr. 

RODRI. 

Now  hath  the  evening  settled  ;  the  broad  moon 
Rolls  through  the  rifted  clouds.     With  gentle  gales 
Slowly  they  glide  along,  when  they  behold 
A  boat,  with  press  of  Bail  and  Btress  of  oar, 
Speed  forward  to  the  Heel  ;  and  now,  arrived 
Beside  the  chieftain's  vessel,  one  inquires 
If  Madoc  be  aboard.     The  answer  given, 
Swift  he  ascended  up  the  lofty  side. 


140  BRITISH  FOLK-LORE. 

With  joyful  wonder  did  the  Ocean  Lord 

Again  behold  Llewelyn  ;  but  he  gazed 

Doubtfully  on  his  comrade's  countenance — 

A  meager  man,  severe  of  brow,  his  eye 

Stern.     "  Thou  dost  view  me,  Madoc,"  he  exclaimed, 

"As  'twere  a  stranger's  face.     I  marvel  not ! 

The  long  afflictions  of  my  prison-housp 

Have  changed  me." 

"  Rodri ! "  cried  the  Prince,  and  fell 
Upon  his  neck;  "  last   night,  subdued  at  length 
By  my  solicitations,  did  the  King 
Send  to  deliver  thee,  that  thou  shonldst  share 
My  happy  enterprise  ;  and  thou  art  come, 
Even  to  my  wish  !  " 

"  Nay,.  Madoc,  nay,  not  so  !  " 
He  answered  with  a  stern  and  bitter  smile  ; 
"  This  gallant  boy  hath  given  me  liberty, 
And  I  will  pay  him  with  his  father's  throne  ; 
Ay,  by  my  father's  soul !     Last  night  we  fled 
The  house  of  bondage,  and  in  the  sea-caves 
By  day  we  lurked  securely.     Here  I  come, 
Only  to  see  thee  once  before  I  die, 
And  say  farewell — dear  brother !  " 

"  Would  to  God 
This  purpose  could  be  changed  !  "  the  Sea  Lord  cried  ; 
"  But  thou  art  roused  by  wrongs,  and  who  shall  tame 
That  lion-heart  ?     This  only,  if  your  lot 
Fall  favorable,  will  I  beseech  of  ye 
That  to  his  Queen,  the  fair  Plantagenet, 
All  honorable  humanity  ye  show, 
For  her  own  virtue,  and  in  gratitude, 
As  she  hath  pleaded  for  you,  and  hath  urged 
Her  husband  on  your  part,  till  it  hath  turned 
His  wrath  upon  herself.     Oh  !  deal  ye  by  her 
As  by  your  dearest  sister  in  distress, 
For  even  so  dear  is  she  to  Madoc's  heart. 


MABOC.  1 4 1 

And  now  I  know  she  from  Aberfraw's  tower 
Watcheth  these  specks  upon  the  moonlight  sea, 
And  weeps  for  my  departure,  and  for  me 
Sends  up  her  prayers  to  Heaven,  nor  thinks  that  now 
I  must  make  mine  to  man  in  her  behalf ! " 

Quoth  Rodri :  "  Rest  assured  for  her.     I  swear, 
By  our  dead  mother,  so  to  deal  with  her 
As  thou  thyself  wouldsfc  dictate,  as  herself 
Shall  wish." 

The  tears  fell  fast  from  Madoc's  eyes. 
"  0  Britain  !  0  my  country  !  "  he  exclaimed ; 
"  Forever  thus  by  civil  strife  convulsed, 
Thy  children's  blood  flowing  to  satisfy 
Thy  children's  rage,  how  wilt  thou  still  support 
The  struggle  with  the  Saxon?" 

Rodri  cried : 
"  Our  strife  shall  not  be  long  ;  Mona  will  rise 
With  joy  to  welcome  me,  her  rightful  lord  ; 
And  woe  be  to  the  King  who  rules  by  fear, 
When  danger  comes  against  him!" 

"  Fear  not  thou 
For  Britain  !"  quoth  Llewelyn  ;  "  for  not  yet 
The  country  of  our  fathers  shall  resign 
Her  name  among  the  nations.     Though  her  Sun 
Slope  from  his  eminence,  the  voice  of  man 
May  yet  arresl  him  on  his  downward  way. 
My  dreams  by  day,  my  visions  in  the  night, 
Are  of  her  welfare.     1  shall  mount  the  throne — 
Yes,  Madoc!  and  the  Bard  of  years  to  come, 
Who  harp-,  of  Arthur's  and  of  Owen's  deeds, 
Shall  with  the  worthies  of  his  country  rank 
Llewelyn's  name.     Dear  ancle,  fare  thee  well! 
And  1  almosl  could  wish  I  had  hem  born 
Of  humbler  Lot,  thai  I  miglrl  follow  thee, 
Companion  of  this  noble  enterprise. 


142  BRITISH  FOLK-IORE. 

Think  of  Llewelyn  often,  who  will  oft 
Kemember  thee  in  love  !  " 

For  the  last  time 
He  pressed  his  uncle's  hand,  and  Kodri  gave 
The  last  farewell ;  then  went  the  twain  their  way. 
So  over  ocean,  through  the  moonlight  waves, 
Prince  Madoc  sailed  with  all  his  company. 
No  nobler  crew  filled  that  heroic  bark 
Which  bore  the  first  adventurers  of  the  deep 
To  seek  the  Golden  Fleece  on  barbarous  shores  ; 
Nor  richlier  fraught  did  that  illustrious  fleet 
Home  to  the  Happy  Island  hold  its  way, 
When  Amadis,  with  his  prime  chivalry — 
He  of  all  chivalry  himself  the  flower — 
Came  from  the  rescue,  proud  of  Eoman  spoils, 
And  Oriana,  freed  from  Roman  thrall. 


TAM    0'    SHANTER. 

BY  ROBERT  BURNS. 

When  chapman  billies1  leave  the  street, 
And  drouthy g  neebors  neebors  meet, 
As  market  days  are  wearin'  late, 
An'  folk  begin  to  tak  the  gate ; 
While  we  sit  bousing  at  the  nappy,3 
And  gettin'  fou4  and  unco  happy, 
We  think  na  on  the  lang  Scots  miles, 
The  mosses,  waters,  slaps,6  and  stiles, 
That  lie  between  us  and  our  hame, 
Whare  sits  our  sulky,  sullen  dame, 
Gathering  her  brows  like  gathering  storm, 
Nursing  her  wrath  to  keep  it  warm. 


i  Chapman  billies— peddling  fellows.  a  Thirsty.         *  Ale. 

*  Boost.  6  Gates. 


TAM  0'  SHANTER.  t4S 

This  truth  fand  honest  Tarn  o'  Shanter, 
As  he  frae  Ayr  ae  night  did  canter 
(Auld  Ayr,  wham  ne'er  a  town  surpasses 
For  honest  men  and  bonny  lasses). 
0  Tarn  !  hadst  thou  but  been  sae  wise 
As  ta'en  thy  ain  wife  Kate's  advice ! 
She  tauld  thee  weel  thou  was  a  skellum, 
A  blethering,  blustering,  drunken  blellum; 
That  frae  November  till  October, 
Ae  market  day  thou  wasna  sober  ; 
That  ilka  melder1  wi'  the  miller 
Thou  sat  as  lang  as  thou  hadst  siller  ; 3 
That  every  naig  was  ca'd  a  shoe  on, 
The  smith  and  thee  gat  roaring  fou  on  ; 
That  at  the  Lord's  house,  even  on  Sunday, 
Thou  drank  wi'  Kirten  Jean  till  Monday. 
She  prophesied  that,  late  or  soon, 
Thou  would  be  found  deep  drown'd  in  Doon  ! 
Or  catch 'd  wi'  warlocks  in  the  mirk, 
By  Alloway's  auld  haunted  kirk. 

Ah,  gentle  dames  !  it  gars3  me  greet4 
To  think  how  mony  counsels  sweet, 
How  mony  lengthened,  sage  advices, 
The  husband  frae  the  wife  despises! 

But  to  our  tale  :    -Ae  market  night, 
Tain  had  got  planted  unco5  right, 
Pas!  by  an  ingle,6  bleezing  finely, 
Wi'  reaming7  swats8  that  drank  divinely  ; 
And  al  his  dhow  Souter9  Johnny, 
His  ancient,  trusty,  drouthy  crony  ; 
Tam  lo'ed  him  like  a  vera  brither — 
They  had  been  fou  for  weeks  thegither ! 

1  i.n  t.        a  Money.         3  Makes.         *  Weep.         •  I  ac< nly. 

i  Foaming.  8  Beer.  «  CoM'l<  r. 


144  BBJTLSH  FOLK-LOBE. 

The  night  drave  on  wi'  sangs  and  clatter, 
And  ay  the  ale  was  growing  better  ; 
The  landlady  and  Tarn  grew  gracious, 
Wi'  favors  secret,  sweet,  and  precious  ; 
The  Souter  tauld  his  queerest  stories, 
The  landlord's  laugh  was  ready  chorus. 
The  storm  without  might  rair  and  rustle — 
Tarn  didna  mind  the  storm  a  whistle. 

Care,  mad  to  see  a  man  sae  happy, 
E'en  drown'd  himself  amang  the  nappy  ! 
As  bees  flee  hame  wi'  lades  o'  treasure, 
The  minutes  wing'd  their  way  wi'  pleasure  ; 
Kings  may  be  blest,  but  Tarn  was  glorious, 
O'er  a'  the  ills  o'  life  victorious. 

But  pleasures  are  like  poppies  spread, 

You  seize  the  flower,  its  bloom  is  shed  ; 

Or  like  the  snowfall  in  the  river, 

A  moment  white — then  melts  forever  ; 

Or  like  the  borealis  race, 

That  flit  ere  you  can  point  their  place  ; 

Or  like  the  rainbow's  lovely  form, 

Evanishing  amid  the  storm. 

Nae  man  can  tether  time  or  tide  ; 

The  hour  approaches  Tam  maun  ride, 

That  hour,  o'  night's  black  arch  the  keystane, 

That  dreary  hour  he  mounts  his  beast  in  ; 

And  sic  a  night  he  taks  the  road  in 

As  ne'er  poor  sinner  was  abroad  in. 

The  wind  blew  as  'twad  blawn  its  last ; 
The  rattling  showers  rose  on  the  blast, 
The  speedy  gleams  the  darkness  swallow'd  ; 
Loud,  deep,  and  lang  the  thunder  bellow'd  ; 
That  night,  a  child  might  understand 
The  deil  had  business  on  his  hand. 


TAM  (J  SHANTER.  145 

Weel  mounted  on  his  gray  mare,  Meg, 

(A  better  never  lifted  leg), 

Tarn  skelpit  on  thro'  dub  and  mire, 

Despising  wind,  and  rain,  and  fire  ; 

Whiles  holding  fast  his  guid  blue  bonnet, 

Whiles  crooning  o'er  some  auld  Scots  sonnet ; 

Whiles  glowering  round  wi'  prudent  cares, 

Lest  bogles  catch  him  unawares. 

Kirk-Alloway  was  drawing  nigh, 

Whare  ghaists  and  houlets  nightly  cry. 

By  this  time  he  was  'cross  the  foord, 

Whare  in  the  snaw  the  chapman  smoor'd,1 

And  past  the  birks  and  meikle  stane 

Whare  drunken  Charlie  brak's  neckbane : 

And  through  the  whins,  and  by  the  cairn 

Whare  hunters  fand  the  murder'd  bairn ; 

And  near  the  thorn,  aboon  the  well, 

Whare  Mango's  mither  hang'd  hersel. 

Before  him  Doon  pours  a'  his  floods; 

The  doubling  storm  roars  through  the  woods ; 

The  lightnings  flash  frae  pole  to  pole; 

Near  and  more  near  thetthunders  roll ; 

When,  glimmering  through  the  groaning  trees, 

Kirk-Alloway  scern'd  in  a  bleeze; 

Through  ilka  bore2  the  beams  were  glancing, 

And  loud  resounded  mirth  and  dancing. 

Inspiring  bold  John  Barleycorn! 
Whal  dangers  thou  cans!  make  us  scorn! 
Wi'  tippenny,3  we  fear  nae  evil, 
Wi'  usquebae,4  wr'll  face  the  devil! — 
The  swat  sac  ream'd  in  Tammie'e  noddle, 
Fair  play,  he  cared  na  deils  a  boddle. 
Bui  Maggie  stood  right  sair  astonish'd, 
Till,  by  the  heel  and  hand  admonish \1, 


■Smothered.  ■  Cr<  *  Cheap  ale.  *  Whisky. 

FOLK-LORE      10 


146  BRITISH  FOLK-LORE. 

She  ventured  forward  on  the  light, 

And,  wow  !  Tarn  saw  an  unco  sight ! 

Warlocks  and  witches  in  a  dance  ; 

Nae  cotillion  brent-new  frae  France, 

But  hornpipes,  jigs,  strathspreys,  and  reels, 

Put  life  and  mettle  i'  their  heels  : 

At  winnock-bunker,1  i'  the   east, 

There  sat  auld  Nick,  in  shape  o'  beast ; 

A  towzie  tyke,2  black,  grim,  and  large, 

To  gie  them  music  was  his  charge : 

He  screw'd  the  pipes,  and  gart  them  skirl,3 

Till  roof  and  rafter  a'  did  dirl.f 

Coffins  stood  round,  like  open  presses, 

That  shaw'd  the  dead  in  their  last  dresses, 

And  by  some  devilish  cantrip  slight 

Each  in  its  cauld  hand  held  a  light, — 

By  which  heroic  Tarn  was  able 

To  note  upon  the  haly  table 

A  murderer's  banes  in  gibbet  aims ; 

Twa  span  lang,  wee,  nnchristen'd  bairns ; 

A  thief,  new-cutted  frae  a  rape, 

Wi'  his  last  gasp  his  gab  did  gape ; 

Five  tomahawks  wi'  blnid  red-rusted ; 

Five  scimitars,  wi'  murder  crusted  ; 

A  garter,  which  a  babe  had  strangled  ; 

A  knife,  a  father's  throat  had  mangled, 

Whom  his  ain  son  o'  life  bereft, 

The  gray  hairs  yet  stack  to  the  heft ; 

Wi'  mair  o'  horrible  and  awfu', 

Which  even  to  name  wad  be  unlawfu'. 

As  Tammie  glower'd,  amazed  and  curious, 
The  mirth  and  fun  grew  fast  and  furious : 
The  piper  loud  and  louder  blew, 
The  dancers  quick  and  quicker  flew  ; 


1  Window  seat.  *  Rough  dog.  9  Shriek.  «  Vibrate. 


TAM  a  SHATTER.  147 

They  reel'd,  they  set,  they  cross'd,  they  cleekit, 

Till  ilka  carlin  swat  and  reekit,1 

And  coost2  her  daddies3  to  the  wark,4 

And  linket  at  it  in  her  sark.5 

Now  Tarn  !  0  Tarn  !  had  thae  been  queans, 

A'  plump  and  strappin'  in  their  teens, 

Their  sarks,  instead  o'  creeshie  flannen, 

Been  snaw-white  seventeen-hunder  linen, 

Thir  breeks 6  o'  mine,  my  only  pair, 

That  ance  were  plush,  o'  guid  blue  hair, 

I  wad  hae  gien  them  aff  my  hurdies 

For  ae  blink  o'  the  bonny  burdies ! 

But  wither'd  beldams,  auld,  and  droll, 
Rigwoodie  hags,  wad  spean  a  foal 
Lowpin'  and  flingin'  on  a  cummock, 
I  wonder  didna  turn  thy  stomach. 

But  Tarn  kenn'd  what  was  what  fu'  brawl ie, 
"  There  was  ae  winsome  wench  and  walie," 
That  night  enlisted  in  the  core 
(Lang  after  kenn'd  on  Carrick  shore; 
For  mony  a  beast  to  dead  she  shot, 
And  perish'd  mony  a  bonny  boat, 
And  shook  baith  meikle  corn  and  bear 
And  kept  the  country  side  in  fear). 
Her  cutty-sark,  o'  Paisley  harn, 
That,  while  a  lassie,  she  had  worn, 
In  longitude  though  sorely  scanty, 
Jt  was  her  best,  and  she  was  vaunty. 

All!  little  kenn'd  thy  reverend  grannie, 
That  sark  she  coft  for  her  wee  Nannie, 
Wi'  twa  pund  Scots  ('twas  a'  her  riches), 
Wad  ever  graced  a  dance  o'  witches! 

i  Steamed.  "Threw.  »Kag8.  « Corner.  'Skirt. 

a  Breeches, 


148  BRITISH  FOLK-LORE. 

But  here  my  Muse  her  wing  maun  cower, 

Sic  flights  are  far  beyond  her  power ; 

To  sing  how  Nannie  lap  and  flang 

(A  souple  jade  she  was  and  Strang), 

And  how  Tarn  stood,  like  ane  bewitch'd, 

And  thought  his  very  een  enrich'd  ; 

Even  Satan  glower'd,  and  fidged  fu'  fain, 

And  hotch'd  and  blew  wi'  might  and  maiu : 

Till  first  ae  caper,  syne  anither, 

Tarn  tint  his  reason  a'  thegither, 

And  roars  out,  "  Weel  done,  Cutty-sark  ! " 

And  in  an  instant  a'  was  dark  : 

And  scarcely  had  he  Maggie  rallied, 

When  out  the  hellish  legion  sallied. 

As  bees  bizz  out  wi'  angry  fyke, 

When  plundering  herds  assail  their  byke, 

As  open  pussie's  mortal  foes, 

When,  pop  !  she  starts  before  their  nose ; 

As  eager  runs  the  market-crowd, 

When  "  Catch  the  thief  ! "  resounds  aloud  ; 

So  Maggie  runs,  the  witches  follow, 

Wi'  mony  an  eldritch  screech  and  hollow. 

Ah,  Tarn  !  ah,  Tam  !  thou'lt  get  thy  fairin' ! 
In  hell  they'll  roast  thee  like  a  herrin' ! 
In  vain  thy  Kate  awaits  thy  comin' ! 
Kate  soon  will  be  a  wofu'  woman  ! 
Now  do  thy  speedy  utmost,  Meg, 
And  win  the  keystane  of  the  brig ; 
There  at  them  thou  thy  tail  may  toss, 
A  running  stream  they  darena  cross; 
But  ere  the  keystane  she  could  make, 
The  fient  a  tail  she  had  to  shake ! 
For  Nannie,  far  before  the  rest, 
Hard  upon  noble  Maggie  prest, 
And  flew  at  Tam  wi'  furious  ettle, 
But  little  wist  she  Maggie's  mettle — 


TAM  0'   SHATTER.  149 

Ae  spring  braugbt  aff  her  master  hale, 
Bat  left  behind  her  am  gray  tail ! 
The  carlin  caught  her  by  the  rump, 
And  left  poor  Maggie  scarce  a  stump. 

Now,  wha  this  tale  o'  truth  shall  read, 
Ilk  man  and  mother's  son  take  heed  : 
Whane'er  to  drink  you  are  inclined, 
Or  Cutty-sarks  run  in  your  mind, 
Think  !  ye  may  buy  the  joys  o'er  dear — 
Remember  Tarn  o'  S banter's  mare. 


NOESE  FOLK-LOBE. 

The  ancient  Scandinavians  were  a  race  of  heroes,  whose 
lives  were  passed  amid  scenes  of  wild  excitement.  They 
braved  the  stormiest  seas,  engaged  in  fierce  encounters  with 
neighboring  peoples  or  among  themselves,  and  spent  their 
intervals  of  rest  in  hearty  revels  in  their  mountain  fast- 
nesses. 

Their  mythology  was  a  reflection  of  their  character.  Their 
favorite  divinity  was  the  god  of  war  and  of  thunder.  Human 
sacrifices  were  offered  upon  their  stone  altars.  Their  gods 
themselves  were  arrayed  in  continual  conflicts. 

The  introduction  of  the  Christian  religion  into  Norway, 
in  the  tenth  century,  was  bitterly  opposed  by  King  Gorm  the 
Old,  but  the  better  faith  was  shortly  afterward  propagated 
under  Harold  Bluetooth,  and  under  King  Olaf  Tryggvesson, 

who 

Preached  the  gospel  with  his  sword. 

The  names  of  the  old  Norse  divinities  are  preserved  in  the 
appellations  of  the  days  of  the  week,  and  in  numerous  forms 
of  speech.  The  mythology  is  so  interwoven  with  modern 
literature  and  art  that  a  knowledge  of  its  leading  characters 
and  distinctive  features  is  now  especially  valuable. 

Unlike  the  disconnected  tales  of  Greek  and  Roman  divini- 
ties, the  mythology  of  the  Norse  presents  a  comprehensive 
and  intelligent  scheme,  and  formed  the  basis  of  a  strong  and 
in  many  respects  rational  faith,  which  fitted  the  Scandina- 
vians to  receive  the  light  of  Christian  teachings. 

Out  of  the  dark  and  formless  chaos,  we  are  told  in  the 
ancient  lore,  sprang  the  giant  from  whose  body  the  earth  was 


NORSE  FOLK-LORE.  151 

formed.  A  continuous  conflict  follows  between  the  forces  of 
good  and  evil.  The  souls  of  brave  mortals  rise  to  dwell  in  a 
soldier's  paradise,  while  cowards  are  cast  down  into  the  drear 
abode  of  the  lost.  Then,  after  long  ages,  comes  the  day  of 
judgment.  The  evil  deity  and  his  minions  cause  the  destruc- 
tion of  the  world,  and  even  the  abode  of  the  celestials  sinks 
in  the  Twilight  of  the  Gods — in  Ragnarok. 

But  the  universe  is  not  left  in  darkness.  A  new  earth 
arises  from  out  the  waters.  The  Almighty  descends  to  sit  in 
judgment.  Here  not  merely  bravery  in  battle,  but  righteous- 
ness in  all  its  forms,  is  the  standard  by  which  the  soul  is  tried. 
The  good  are  reserved  for  eternal  life  with  God,  while  the 
wicked  are  consigned  to  never-dying  fires. 

The  giant  Ymer,  or  Imir,  represents  chaotic  matter.  He 
was  produced  in  the  open  space,  Ginungagap,  by  the  action 
of  heat  and  frost  from  the  fire-world,  Muspelheim,  and  the 
ice-world,  Xiflheim.  Frost  giants  sprang  into  being,  from 
whom  was  descended  Odin,  the  father  of  gods  and  men. 
Ymer.  being  evil,  was  slain  by  Odin,  and  from  his  body  the 
world  was  formed.  The  seas,  which  flowed  from  his  veins, 
ingulfed  the  whole  race  of  frost  giants,  with  the  exception 
of  a  single  pair,  from  whom  a  later  giant  race  was  descended. 

Odin,  the  greatest  of  the  gods,  having  formed  the  world, 
molded  the  first  human  pair,  Ask  and  EMBLA,  and  gave 
them  Midgard  for  a  residence.  From  his  elevated  throne, 
Illidskjalf,  he  viewed  the  entire  world  and  ruled  the  nations. 
Be  is  portrayed  as  a  tall,  aged,  heavily  bearded,  one-eyed 
man,  with  an  expression  of  deep  thoughtful ness  upon  his 
ires.  He  wears  a  eloak  of  colored  st  ripes,  and  carries  a 
spear  (Gungner).  Be  wears  also  a  broad  hat-  (for  all  the 
Norse  gods  are  well  clothed)  ami  lias  a  bracelet  (Draiijuier) 
upon  his  arm.  II^  i  •  al  tended  by  two  wolves,  Gere  and  Freke 
(greedy  and  voracious),  and  two  ravens,  Bugin  (reflection) 
and  Munin  (memory).  From  another  form  of  Odin's  name 
we  derive  Wednesday.  His  wives  were  Jord,  Frigga,  and 
Rind. 


152  NORSE  FOLK-LORE. 

Thor,  the  Thunderer,  was  the  son  of  Odin  and  Jord. 
Representing  the  strength  manifest  in  the  convulsions  of 
Nature,  and  in  a  moral  sense  the  principle  of  right  in  conflict 
with  evil,  he  is  always  at  war,  slaying  giants  and  demons 
with  his  hammer,  Mjolner.  Most  happily  has  Longfellow 
depicted  this  grand  deity  in  the  Challenge,  with  which  his 
noble  Saga  opens : 

"  1  am  the  God  Thor, 
I  am  the  War  God, 
I  a<u  the  Thunderer  I 
Here  in  my  Northland, 
My  fastness  and  fortress, 
Reign  I  forever ! 

"  Here  amid  icebergs 
Rule  I  the  nations  ; 
This  is  my  hammer, 
Miolner  the  mighty; 
Giants  and  sorcerers 
Can  not  withstand  it ! 

"  These  are  the  gauntlets 
Wherewith  I  wield  it, 
And  hurl  it  afar  off; 
This  is  my  girdle  ; 
Whenever  I  brace  it, 
Strength  is  redoubled  ! 

"The  light  thou  beholdest 
Stream  through  the  heavens 
In  flashes  of  crimson, 
Is  but  my  red  beard, 
Blown  by  the  night-wind, 
Affrighting  the  nations ! 

"  Jove  is  my  brother ; 
Mine  eyes  are  the  lightning; 
The  wheels  of  my  chariot 
Roll  in  the  thunder; 
The  blows  of  my  hammer 
Ring  in  the  earthquake  ! 

"  Force  rules  the  world  still, 
Has  ruled  it,  shall  rule  it; 


NORSE  FOLK-LOBE.  183 

Meekness  is  weakness, 
Strength  is  triumphant ; 
Over  the  whole  earth 
Still  is  it  Thor's-Day  ! " 

—Longfelloiv's  "Saga  of  King  Olaf." 

Balder  was  the  son  of  Thor  and  Frigga.  He  represented 
the  sunlight  of  summer,  and  perhaps  also,  in  an  allegorical 
sense,  truth  and  virtue.  lie  is  depicted  as  fair  and  beauti- 
ful, with  golden  hair  and  dazzling  eyes. 

Hoder,  the  blind  brother  and  slayer  of  Balder,  was  the 
god  of  winter.     He  was  killed  by  his  brother  Vale,  or  Vali. 

Tyr  was  the  son  of  Odin  and  a  giantess.  He  is  repre- 
sented as  a  one-armed  warrior,  the  missing  hand  having  been 
bitten  off  by  the  wolf  Fenris.  The  genitive  form  of  his  name 
is  Tys,  and  the  third  day  of  the  week  is  named  in  his  honor. 

Brage,  or  Bragi,  a  son  of  Odin,  was  the  god  of  poetry, 
the  greatest  of  the  Skalds. 

Heimdal,  or  Heimdallar,  was  the  god  of  the  trumpet 
(Gjallarhorn),  whose  call  could  be  heard  throughout  the  uni- 
verse ;  the  warder  of  the  heavens ;  the  watchman  of  the 
Bkies. 

Vidar,  the  slayer  of  the  wolf  Fenris,  was  the  son  of  Odin 
and  the  giantess  Grid.  Noiselessly  he  walked  upon  the 
water  and  the  air. 

Vale,  or  Vali,  the  famous  god  of  the  bow,  who  slew  his 
brother  Hoder  when  but  one  night  old,  represented  the  re- 
turn of  light  after  the  night  of  winter. 

FOBSETE,  the  son  of  Balder,  was  the  peacemaker  of  the 
gods. 

Uller  was  a  stepson  of  Thor,  and  presided  over  the  or- 
deal of  the  duel. 

Lore,  or  Loki,  was  a  malign  god,  a  principle  of  evil,  the 
Satan  of  the  Norse  mythology.  He  instigated  Under  to  slay 
the  good  Balder.  Loke  was  the  parent  of  Hela,  and  also  of 
the  strange  monsters,  the  Midgard  serpent,  the  wolf  Fenris, 
and  Sleipner  (the  eight-footed  steed  of  Odin). 


154  NORSE  FOLK-LORE. 

The  twelve  divinities  above  described  were  the  Asas,  or 
gods  inhabiting  Asgard,  as  distinguished  from  the  Vans,  or 
sea-gods,  who  dwelt  in  Vanaheim.  JNTjord  and  his  son  Frey, 
originally  of  the  Vans,  were  received  among  the  Asas. 

The  gods  are  what  you  make  them, 

As  earth  shall  Asgard  prove, 
And  hate  will  come  of  hating, 

And  love  will  come  of  love. 

—  Whittier's  "Dole  of  Jarl  ThorML" 

The  Elves  were  beings  of  a  nature  between  human  and 
divine.  Their  home  was  Fairyland,  and  Frey  was  their 
king. 

The  goddesses  were  more  numerous  than  the  gods,  but 
there  are  fewer  important  names  among  them. 

Frigga  was  the  queen  of  the  gods,  sharing  with  Odin 
the  glory  of  Hlidskjalf.  Her  solicitude  for  Balder  and  her 
grief  at  his  death  are  pathetically  described. 

Freyja  (who  is  often  mistaken  for  Frigga)  was  the 
daughter  of  Njord.  She  was  the  goddess  of  love.  It  is  not 
known  whether  Friday  is  named  in  honor  of  Frigga  or  of 
Freyja. 

The  Norns  were  the  fates,  which  presided  over  birth, 
and  cast  the  horoscope  of  life.  Their  names  wereURD  (past), 
Verdande  (present),  and  Sktjld  (future).  Their  home  was 
at  the  fountain  of  Urd. 

Bur  Ililding  said,  "  My  foster-son, 
Your  reason  is  by  love  outrun  ; 
The  Norns  are  partial  in  bestowing 
The  blood  that  in  her  veins  is  flowing. 
To  Odin  high,  where  bright  stars  shine, 
Ascendeth  her  ancestral  line." 

— Unicornis  "  Translation  of  Fridthjof's  Saya." 

Hela  was  the  goddess  of  death,  the  daughter  of  Loke  and 
the  giantess  Angerboda.     Her  abode  was  Helheim. 

The  Hoard  of  Golden  Treasure  occupies  an  important 
place  in  the  mythology  of  the  northern  nations  of  Europe. 


NORSE  FOLK-LORE.  165 

According  to  the  ISorse  version,  it  was  hidden  within  a  rocky 
cave  by  the  dwarf  Andvare,  in  the  land  of  swarthy  Elves.  Loke 
killed  an  otter,  which  was  claimed  as  a  son  by  the  magician 
Hreidmar,  who  demanded  an  indemnity.  Loke  seized  the 
hoard  of  Andvare,  and  wrested  from  the  latter  a  charmed  ring, 
which  was  then  cursed  by  its  late  possessor.  Both  the  hoard 
and  the  ring  were  given  as  a  ransom  to  Hreidmar,  but 
proved  a  curse  to  all  who  held  them.  A  son  of  Hreidmar 
slew  him  and  the  other  son,  and  became  a  monstrous  serpent, 
the  guardian  of  the  treasure  on  Glittering  Heath. 

The  curse  of  the  gold  is  held  to  symbolize  the  bane  of  ill- 
gotten  wealth. 

The  Valkyries  were  the  beautiful  maids  of  Odin,  who 
served  at  the  feasts  in  Valhalla,  the  paradise  of  the  brave. 
They  were  also  his  messengers,  and  presided  over  battle, 
marking  the  heroes  to  be  slain,  and  accompanying  them  to  the 
banquet  halls  of  the  blest. 

Ragnarok  signified  the  last  day,  the  day  of  judgment, 
the  Twilight  of  the  Gods,  when  the  trumpet  of  Heimdal 
should  sound,  when  earth  and  heaven  should  be  dissolved, 
and  gods  and  mortals  alike  disappear  in  the  wreck  of  the 
universe. 

'I'm;  W'oi.f  Fenris  was  a  monster  of  evil,  which  bit 
off  the  hand  of  Tyr,  after  winch  he  was  chained  until  Rag- 
narok.  Escaping  then,  he  swallows  the  sun  and  slays  Odin. 
He  is  in  turn  shun  by  Yidar,  who  thus  avenues  his  father's 
death. 

The  Mum, aim)  Serpent,  representing  the  agencies  of 
sin,  extended  entirely  around  Midgard  (the  abode  of  man). 
In  Kagnarok  he  is  shun  by  the  noble  Thor,  who,  after  inflict- 
ing the  death-stroke,  falls  back  nine  paces  and  succumbs, 
poisoned  by  the  monster's  horrid  breath. 

SURT,  or  Surtur,  is  a  fire-giant,  who  appears  at  Kagna- 
rok, to  fling  fire  over  the  world.  The  flames  soar  to  the 
skies,  enveloping  the  tree  of  life,  Ygdrasil,  and  the  ruined 
universe  sinks  beneath  the  black  waves  of  tie'  surging  ocean. 


156  NORSE  FOLK-LORE. 

In  the  final  conflict  Frey  is  slain  by  Surt,  and  Loke  and 
Heimdal  fall,  each  at  the  hands  of  the  other. 

This  is  a  scene  for  a  painter  of  transcendent  genius,  and 
is  suited  to  the  conceptions  of  Wagner,  who  has  made  it  the 
subject  of  one  of  his  greatest  operas.  In  the  background  of 
the  old  Norse  religion  is  the  Eternal  One,  who  existed  before 
lOdin,  and  who  judges  the  world  and  evolves  a  new  heaven 
and  a  new  earth,  after  the  destruction  of  the  old. 

NOTES    OF    LITERATURE    RELATING    TO    NORSE    FOLK-LORE. 

Among  the  most  famous  volumes  of  folk-lore  in  the  literature  of 
the  world  are  the  Elder  and  Younger  Eddas.''  The  first  of  these  was 
probably  compiled  near  the  middle  of  the  thirteenth  century.2  It  con- 
sists of  thirty-nine  poems.  It  opens  with  the  prophecy  of  Vala  (the 
Voluspa),  which  covers  the  history  of  time  from  the  creation  to  Rag- 
narok.  An  ingeniously  condensed  paraphrase  of  this  poem  is  given  in 
the  Eelga.  by  William  Herbert,  an  English  clergyman  and  author. 

Following  the  Vdhtspa  is  a  poem  supposed  to  have  been  composed 
by  Odin  himself.  Near  the  end  of  the  collection  is  the  romantic  story 
of  Sigurd  and  Brynhild,  which  has  been  retold  in  many  forms,  notably 
in  the  grand  Nibelungenlied  of  German  literature. 

The  Younger  Edda  is  the  work  of  Snorre  SturIeson,of  the  thirteenth 
centurv,  and  is  written  principally  in  prose.  It  contains  a  vast  number 
of  tales,  and  has  been  compared  to  the  Decameron  and  the  Arabian 
Nights.  Sturleson  was  the  author  of  the  famous  Jleimskringla,  from 
which  Longfellow  drew  the  materials  and  the  inspiration  of  his  beau- 
tiful Saga  of  King  Olaf. 

And  then  the  blue-eyed  Norseman  told 

A  saga  of  the  days  of  old : 
"  There  is,"  said  he,  "  a  wondrous  book 

Of  legends  in  the  old  Norse  tongue, 
Of  the  dead  kings  of  Norroway  ; 

Legends  that  once  were  told  or  sung 


»  The  striking  fact  brought  vividly  before  our  minds  is  that  the  people  of 
the  North,  even  before  the  time  when  they  carried  their  warfare  into  Gaul  and 
Britain,  possessed  a  degree  of  civilization  which  would  be  difficult  for  us  to 
realize,  were  it  not  that  antiquities  help  us,  in  a  most  remarkable  manner,  and 
in  many  essential  points,  to  corroborate  the  truthfulness  of  the  Eddas  and 
Sagas.— Paul  B.  Du  ChailhSs  "  Viking  Age." 

*  To  this  an  earlier  date  is  often  assigned. 


NOTES  OF  LITERATURE.  1S7 

In  many  a  smoky  fireside  nook 

Of  Iceland  in  the  ancient  day, 
By  wandering  Saga-man,  or  Scald ; 

Heimskringla  is  the  volume  called." 

— Longfelloiv's  "  Tales  of  a  Wayside  Inn." 

In  the  earlier  years  of  this  century  a  very  general  interest  in  the 
Scandinavians  was  awakened  by  the  works  of  the  famous  Danish  sculp- 
tor, Thorwaldsen,  which  were  popularized  in  Europe  and  America,  and 
by  the  charming  tales  of  Hans  Christian  Andersen.  In  later  years  this 
popular  interest  has  been  greatly  increased  in  America  by  the  very  ex- 
tensive settlement  of  the  people  of  northern  Europe  in  our  States  of 
the  Northwest ;  by  the  valuable  books  and  lectures  of  Paul  C.  Sinding, 
Bjornstjerne  Bjornson,  Iljalmar  ITjorth  Boyesen.  Prof.  R.  B.  Anderson, 
and  others;  by  the  Fridthjofs  Saga  and  The  Saga  of  King  Olaf,  the 
operas  of  Wagner,  the  millennial  anniversary  of  the  settlement  of  Ice- 
land, and  the  world-wide  fame  of  Henrik  Ibsen. 

The  Saga  of  King  Olaf,  which  forms  a  part  of  The  Tales  of  a  Way- 
side Inn,  by  Longfellow,  is  one  of  the  most  perfect  poems  of  that 
matchless  word-master.  It  reproduces  not  merely  the  tales  taken  from 
the  old  Heimskringla,  but  also  the  spirit  of  the  sagas,  and,  in  many 
instances,  the  old  Norse  words,  which  constitute  a  portion  of  our  herit- 
age from  the  ancienl  Saxons  and  Angles,  and  have  comedown  to  us 
but  little  changed.  In  this  poem  Einar  Tamberskelver  (whose  songs,  it 
i>  said,  are  still  sung  by  Scandinavian  boatmen)and  other  half-mythical 
heroes  of  King  Olaf's  boat's  crew  are  graphically  portrayed: 

Her  forecastle  man  wjas  I'lf  the  Red; 
kike  a  wolfs  was  his  shaggy  head, 

His  teel  h  as  Large  and  white  ; 
His  beard,  of  gray  and  russet  blended, 
Round  as  a  swallow's  nesl  descended  : 
As  standard-bearer  he  defended 

Olaf's  flag  in  the  fight. 

Near  him  Kblbiorn  had  his  place, 
Like  the  King  in  garb  and  face, 

So  gallanl  and  so  hale  ; 
! .  ery  cabin-boy  and  varlet 
Wondered  at  his  cloak  of  scarlet; 
Like  a  river,  frozen  and  starlit, 

l  \      :neii  bis  coal  of  mail. 

By  the  bulkhead,  tall  and  dark, 
St 1  Thrand  Etarae  of  Thelemark, 

A  figure  gaunl  and  grand  ; 
I  >n  his  hairy  arm  imprinted 
Was  an  anchor,  azure-tinted  ; 
Like  Thor'e  hammer,  huge  and  dinted, 

Was  his  brawny  hand. 


158  NORSE  FOLK-LORE. 

Einar  Tamberskelver,  bare 
To  the  winds  his  golden  hair, 

By  the  mainmast  stood  ; 
Graceful  was  his  form,  and  slender, 
And  his  eyes  were  deep  and  tender 
As  a  woman's  in  the  splendor 

Of  her  maidenhood. 

In  the  fore-hold  Biorn  and  Bork 
Watched  the  sailors  at  their  work ; 

Heavens  !  how  they  swore  ! 
Thirty  nfen  they  each  commanded, 
Iron-sinewed,  horny-handed, 
Shoulders  broad,  and  chests  expanded, 

Tugging  at  the  oar. 

These,  and  many  more  like  these, 
With  King  Olaf  sailed  the  seas, 

Till  the  waters  vast 
Filled  them  with  a  vague  devotion, 
With  the  freedom  and  the  motion, 
With  the  roll  and  roar  of  ocean 
And  the  sounding  blast. 

When  they  landed  from  the  fleet, 

How  they  roared  through  Drontheim's  street, 

Boisterous  as  the  gale  ! 
How  they  laughed  and  stamped  and  pounded, 
Till  the  tavern  roof  resounded, 
And  the  host  looked  on  astounded, 

As  they  drank  the  ale  ! 

Never  saw  the  wild  North  Sea 
Such  a  gallant  company 

Sail  its  billows  blue  ! 
Never,  while  they  cruised  and  quarreled, 
Old  King  Gorm  or  Blue-toot li  Harold 
Owned  a  ship  so  well  appareled, 

Boasted  such  a  crew  ! 

Fridihjofs  Saga,  by  the  Danish  author,  Bishop  Esaias  Tegner 
(1782-1846),  is  one  of  the  most  famous  compositions  of  the  century.  It 
has  been  translated  into  almost  all  the  modern  languages  of  Europe. 
There  are  at  least  nineteen  translations  of  the  work  in  English.  It  has 
been  painted  in  panorama,  and  set  to  music.  Through  it  runs,  like  a 
silken  thread,  the  love-story  of  Fridthjof  and  Ingeborg— an  element 
lacking  in  The  Saga  of  King  Olaf. 

The  following  stanzas  are  taken  from  Ingeborg's  Lament ; 

Summer  is  past, 

Ocean's  broad  bosom's  upheav'd  by  the  blast ; 

Yet  oh,  how  gladly  out  yonder 

Far  would  I  wander  ! 


NOTES  OF  LITERATURE.  139 

Long  did  I  view 

Westward  His  sail  on  the  wave  as  it  flew; 
Sail,  ah  !  how  bless'd — that  abideth 
Still  where  he  rideth. 

Swell  not  so  high, 

Billow  of  blue  :  fast  enough  he  sweeps  by. 
Guide  him,  ye  stars  !     In  his  danger, 
Shine  on  the  stranger. 

Mine  shalt  thou  be, 

Hawk  he  forgot ;  yes ;  I'll  love  as  did  he  ; 
Ing'borg  will  feed  thee,  through  endless 
Skies  hunting  friendless. 

Freja,  one  day, 

Falcon-wings' took,  and  through  space  hied  away; 
Northwards  and  southwards  she  sought  her 
Dearly  lov'd  Oder. 

Ah  !  could  I  wear 

Thine,  they,  alas  !  would  not  carry  me  there; 
Wings  like  the  gods',  to  the  lonely — 
Death  giveth  only  ! 

Pretty  one !  keep 

Fix'd  on  my  shoulder,  and  gaze  on  the  deep; — 

Gaze  we  and  long  as  we  will,  no 

Keel  cleaves  the  billow. 

—Stephens's  Translation  of  "Fridthjofs  Saga" 

Tcgner  is  the  most  popular  and  brilliant  poet  of  the  Swedes.  Scarce- 
ly inferior  in  interest  to  Fridthjofs  Saga  is  his  saga  or  romance  of 
Axel,  which  is  based  upon  a  legend  of  the  insane  wars  of  Charles  XII 
and  Peter  the  Great. 

Axel  is  a  youthful  dragoon  of  the  mad  youngSwedish  king.  Maria, 
the  heroine  in  disguise,  is  a  soldier  of  the  Czar.  Though  the  subject  of 
the  poem  is  comparatively  modern— being  less  than  two  hundred  years 
old— the  furious  death-grapple  of  the  northern  monarchs  has  all  the 
rush  and  power  of  ancienl  sea-king  struggles,  and  is  a  happily  chosen 
subject  for  a  6aga  of  the  later  centuries, 

The  sagas  o f  Bjarne  Qerjulfson  and  Thorfinn  Karlsefne  are  of  special 

inten  -t.  to  Americans,  since  they  relate  to  the  discovery  of  the  A rican 

continent  by  Norse  voyagers.  Leif  the  Fortunate,  son  of  Erik  the  Red, 
visited  Newfoundland  and  various  points  on  the  New  England  coast  in 
the  year  1000.  His  lam  In  r  Thorwald  died  in  America,  and  was  buried 
on  the  seashore.  While  the  discovery  of  America  by  the  Norse  is  now 
admitted  to  be  historical,  it  is  nol  recorded  \\  ith  such  detail  and  accuracy 
as  characterize  the  accounts  of  the  later  discovery.  It  is  interwoven 
with  embellishments  of  legend  and  romance. 


160  MORSE  FOLK-LORE. 

ThonvaWs  Lay,  by  James  Russell  Lowell,  and  The  Norsemen,  by 
Paul  Christian  Sinding,  relate  to  the  Norse  discoveries  in  America. 

At  the  millennial  celebration  of  Iceland,  in  1874,  Americans  were 
represented  by  Bayard  Taylor,  Dr.  I.  I.  Hayes,  and  Cyrus  W.  Field. 
From  Bayard  Taylor's  translation  of  the  Icelandic  greeting  to  the  king 
are  taken  the  following  lines: 

Here,  as  in  thousand  years  of  old, 

The  same  words  sound,  a  voice  unended, 
As  when  their  life  and  law  defended 
The  spearmen  with  their  shields  of  gold  ; 

The  same  land  yet  the  same  speech  giveth, 
The  ancient  soul  of  Freedom  liveth, 
And  hither,  King,  we  welcome  thee. 

Again,  as  in  the  olden  time — 

All  the  folk  in  Alta-f jord 

Boasted  of  their  island  grand, 
Saying  in  a  single  word, 
Iceland  is  the  finest  land 
That  the  sun 
Doth  shine  upon. 

"  Even  at  the  present  day,"  says  Sinding,  in  his  Scandinavian  Races, 
"an  Icelander,  if  it  in  any  way  be  possible,  is  sure  to  return  and  spend 
his  old  age  among  the  volcanic  fire  and  eternal  snowstorms  of  his  own 
dear  island."  So,  in  the  fair  clime  of  southern  Europe,  Ibsen  is  carried 
in  dreams  to  his  native  Norway.     As  he  says  in  his  Burned  Ships: 

To  the  huts  of  the  Snowland, 
From  the  pomp  of  the  South, 
Rideth  a  rider 
Every  night. 


THE    SONG    OF  VALA. 

BT    WILLIAM    HERBERT. 

Silence,  all  ye  sons  of  glory  ! 

Silence,  fill  ye  powers  of  light ! 
While  I  sing  of  ancient  story, 

Wonders  wrapt  in  mystic  night. 


THE  SONG  OF  VALA.  161 

I  was  rocked  in  giant's  cradle, 

Giant's  lore  my  wisdom  gave  ; 
I  have  known  both  good  and  evil, 

Now  I  lie  in  lowly  grave. 

Long  before  the  birth  of  Odin, 

Mute  was  thunderous  ocean's  roar  ; 

Stillness  o'er  the  huge  earth  brooding, 
Strand  was  none,  or  rocky  shore. 

Neither  grass  nor  green  tree  growing, 

Vernal  shower,  nor  wintry  storm, 
Nor  those  horses,  bright  and  glowing, 

Dragged  the  sun's  refulgent  form. 

lie  who  rules  by  night  the  heaven, 
Wist  not  where  his  beams  to  throw; 

All  to  barren  darkness  given, 
There,  confusion,  hell  below. 

Imir  sat  in  lonely  sadness, 

Watching  o'er  the  fruitless  globe; 
Never  morning  beamed  with  gladness; 

Never  eve  with  dewy  robe. 

Who  are  those  in  pride  advancing 
Through  the  barren  tract  of  night? 

Mark  their  steel  divinely  glancing  ; 
Imir  fails  in  holy  fight ! 

Of  his  bones,  the  rocks,  high  swelling, 

( )f  his  flesh  l  He  glebe  is  made  ; 
From  his  veins  the  tide  is  welling, 

Ami  his  loci  rdanl  shade. 

Hark  !  his  cresl  with  gold  adorning, 

<  lhanticleer  on  Odin  calls  ! 
Hark  !  another  bird  of  morning 

( 'Lip.  In  a  wings  in  Hela's  halls ! 

FOLK-LORE      11 


168  MOl    8   :    LK-LOEE. 

V  -  z.  -    - 

EL~ci 

z-  . 

Z~- 

w  -  - 

.    l  of  morn? 

- 
B 
H 

- 

Bhres  in  secret 

- 

- 

.  -ad. 

- 

.  jathsome  head ! 
-' 
Earth  has  sank  in  Ocear. 


THOBWALD'S  LAY.  I  B  : 

_ 

W 

H     -  — £  .-_  n ..    ■ 

He  wh :~".  -:;'- 

t 

He  -  . 

Shane  from  | 

-  -  I  :' 

Those  shall  wade  _    '      . 

-  ■ 
Fa: 

Loathsome  - 


-  _  D'S    _- 

BT   JAMI> 

-     ' 
-      . 
- 

Such  ts  got  fathers 

st  that  s  ■      .  ■  _- 

-  ging  seas 

Tbei  - 

w, 


164  NORSE  FOLK-LORE. 

His  head  was  bowed  with  gathered  flakes  of  years, 
As  winter  bends  the  sea-foreboding  pine, 
But  something  triumphed  in  his  brow  and  eye, 
Which  whoso  saw  it  could  not  see  and  crouch. 
Loud  rang  the  emptied  beakers  as  he  mused, 
Brooding  his  eyried  thoughts ;  then,  as  an  eagle 
Circles  smooth-winged  above  the  wind-vexed  woods, 
So  wheeled  his  soul  into  the  air  of  song, 
High  o'er  the  stormy  hall ;  and  thus  he  sang  : 

"  The  fletcher  for  his  arrow-shaft  picks  out 

Wood  closest-grained,  long-seasoned,  straight  as  light ; 

And,  from  a  quiver  full  of  such  as  these, 

The  wary  bowman,  matched  against  his  peers, 

Long  doubting,  singles  yet  once  more  the  best. 

Who  is  it  needs  such  flawless  shafts  as  Fate? 

What  archer  of  his  arrows  is  so  choice, 

Or  hits  the  white  so  surely  ?     They  are  men, 

The  chosen  of  her  quiver ;  nor  for  her 

Will  every  reed  suffice,  or  cross-grained  stick 

At  random  from  life's  vulgar  fagot  plucked : 

Such  answer  household  ends,  but  she  will  have 

Souls  straight  and  clear,  of  toughest  fiber,  sound 

Down  to  the  heart  of  heart ;  from  these  she  strips 

All  needless  stuff,  all  sapwood ;  seasons  them, 

From  circumstance  untoward  feathers  plucks 

Crumpled  and  cheap,  and  barbs  with  iron  will : 

The  hour  that  passes  is  her  quiver-boy  : 

When  she  draws  bow,  'tis  not  across  the  wind, 

Nor  'gainst  the  sun,  her  haste-snatched  arrow  sings, 

For  sun  and  wind  have  plighted  faith  to  her ; 

Ere  men  have  heard  the  sinew  twang,  behold, 

In  the  butt's  heart  her  trembling  messenger  ! 

"  The  song  is  old  and  simple  that  I  sing  ; 
But  old  and  simple  are  despised  as  cheap, 
Though  hardest  to  achieve  of  human  things. 


THE  NORSEMEN.  165 

Good  were  the  days  of  yore,  when  men  were  tried 
By  ring  of  shields,  as  now  by  ring  of  words  ; 
But,  while  the  gods  are  left,  and  hearts  of  men, 
And  wide-doored  ocean,  still  the  days  are  good. 
Still  o'er  the  earth  hastes  Opportunity, 
Seeking  the  hardy  soul  that  seeks  for  her. 
Be  not  abroad,  nor  deaf  with  household  cares 
That  chatter  loudest  as  they  mean  the  least ; 
Swift-willed  is  thrice-willed  ;  late  means  nevermore ; 
Impatient  is  her  foot,  nor  turns  again." 

He  ceased  ;  upon  his  bosom  sank  his  beard 

Sadly,  as  one  who  oft  had  seen  her  pass 

Nor  stayed  her ;  and  forthwith  the  frothy  tide 

Of  interrupted  wassail  roared  along  ; 

But  Biorn,  the  son  of  Heriulf,  sat  apart 

Musing,  and,  with  his  eyes  upon  the  fire, 

Saw  shapes  of  arrows,  lost  as  soon  as  seen. 

"  A  ship,"  he  muttered,  "  is  a  winged  bridge 

That  leudcth  every  way  to  man's  desire, 

And  ocean  the  wide  gate  to  manful  luck." 

And  then  with  that  resolve  his  heart  was  bent, 

Which  like  a  humming  shaft,  through  many  a  stripe 

Of  day  and  night  across  the  unpathwayed  seas, 

Shot  the  brave  prow  that  cut  on  V inland  sands 

The  first  rune  in  the  saga  of  the  West. 


THE    NORSEMEN. 

BY   PAUL  C.  BINDING. 

Each  circling  year  its  darkness  casts 
Over  the  dim  and  Bhadowy  past : 
Those  kings  who  ruled  with  iron  hand 
O'er  many  a  broad  and  fertile  land, 


166  NORSE  FOLK-LORE. 

Those  crested  chiefs,  whose  dauntless  might 
Turned  the  fierce  tide  of  many  a  fight ; 
Those  poets,  who,  untaught  by  art, 
Could  rouse,  or  soothe  or  melt  the  heart ; 
Sleep  half  remembered  and  alone — 
Their  deeds,  their  names,  are  almost  gone ; 
And  o'er  their  fame  gray  Time  has  flung 
His  mantle,  as  he  passed  along. 

Yet  still  some  glorious  deeds  remain 
Of  Norseman  bold  and  fiery  Dane  ; 
Those  wild,  fierce  rovers,  proud  and  free, 
Those  daring  wanderers  of  the  sea, 
Well  earned  the  name  their  sagas  gave 
Of  Vikings,  monarchs  of  the  wave. 
Long  ere  Columbus  dared  to  brave 
The  dangers  of  the  Western  wave, 
Their  keels  had  grated  on  the  strand 
That  binds  New  England's  rocky  land  ; 
Red  Erik's  hardy  sons  had  seen 
Her  broad  blue  streams  and  forests  green  ; 
And  where  the  Pilgrim  city  stands, 
Bold  Thorwald  and  his  fearless  band 
Shook  with  their  rugged  oars  the  brine, 
Plucked  the  thick  clusters  of  the  vine, 
And  laid  their  huge,  strong  limbs  to  rest 
Beneath  the  wild  woods  of  the  West. 

No  shore  to  which  the  Northmen  came 
But  kept  some  token  of  their  fame  ; 
On  the  rough  surface  of  a  rock, 
Unmoved  by  time  or  tempest's  shock, 
In  Runic  letters,  Thorwald  drew 
A  record  of  his  gallant  crew  ; 
And  those  rude  letters  still  are  shown, 
Deep  chiseled  in  the  flinty  stone. 


FRIDTHJOF'S  SAGA.  167 


FRIDTHJOPS    SAGA. 

BY    ESAIAS   TEGXER. 
(TRANSLATED   BY   OSCAR   BAKER.) 

CANTO    XV. 
THE   VIKING'S   CODE. 

Xow  he  flew  far  and  wide  o'er  the  desert-like  sea, 

And  he  forayed  and  fought  like  a  hawk ; 
But  for  warriors  on  board  he  wrote  statutes  and  laws — 

Wilt  thou  hear,  then,  his  Vikingabalk? 

"  Spread  no  tent  on  thy  ship,  never  sleep  in  a  house, 

In  the  portal  but  enemies  stand ; 
Thou  must  sleep  on  thy  shield,  'neath  the  heavens  of  blue, 

With  thy  falchion  so  true  in  thy  hand. 

"  Very  short  is  the  hammer  of  conquering  Thor ; 

Frey's  sword  measures  only  an  ell ; 
'Tis  enough  ;  hast  thou  courage,  close  in  with  thy  foe, 

A  nd  a  dagger  will  serve  thee  as  well. 

"  When  the  storms  roar  around,  hoist  the  sails  of  thy  bark  ; 

Life  is  sweet  on  the  maddening  wave ; 
Let  them  roar  ;  he's  a  (toward  that  reefs  but  an  inch — 

Thou  must  sooner  sink  down  in  thy  grave. 

"  Never  take  a  fair  maiden  on  board  of  thy  ship, 

For  '''en  Freya  would  strive  to  beguile; 
For  the  falsest  of  whirlpools  arc  those  of  the  cheek, 

And  a  treacherous  wind  is  a  smile. 

"  Wine  is  Odin's  own  drink;  thou  mayst  drink  an  thou  wilt, 

So  that  well  a  carouse  thou  canst  bear. 
The  drunkard  on  shore  can  rise  up  if  he  fall, 

lint  at  sea  is  cold  Rana  too  near. 


168  JVOBSE  FOLK-LORE. 

"  If  the  merchant  sail  forth,  then  his  vessel  protect ; 

By  the  weak  shall  no  ransom  be  told ; 
Thou  art  king  on  the  wave,  he  is  slave  to  his  gains, 

And  thy  steel  is  as  good  as  his  gold. 

"  Share  the  goods  on  the  deck  or  with  lots  or  with  dice  ; 

At  the  issue  let  no  one  repine ; 
The  sea-king  alone  keeps  the  honor  and  fame, 

All  the  goods  and  the  money  are  thine. 

"  When  a  Viking  ship's  seen,  there  is  boarding  in  haste, 

And  firm  at  thy  post  thou  must  stand ; 
If  thou  flinch  but  a  step,  our  statutes  enjoin, 

Never  more  shalt  thou  be  with  our  band. 

"  Sure,  a  conquest's  enough  !     He  that  begs  for  his  life, 

Without  sword,  is  no  longer  thy  foe ; 
Prayer  is  Heaven's  own  shield.     Hear  the  pallid  one's  voice  ; 

He's  a  niding  that  answereth  '  No.' 

"  Wounds  are  counted  a  gain ;  they  adorn  thee  right  well, 

If  on  breast  or  on  forehead  they  stand  ; 
Let  them  bleed ;  bind  them  up  when  the  day  has  gone  by, 

Not  before,  if  thou'rt  one  of  our  band." 

Thus  his  statutes  were  framed,  and  his  name,  day  by  day, 

Grew  great  o'er  the  billow  so  bright ; 
And  his  equals  he  never  could  find  on  the  sea, 

And  his  champions  fought  with  delight. 

But  he  sat  by  the  rudder,  with  gloom  on  his  brow, 

And  gazed  on  the  watery  swell : 
"  Thou  art  deep ;  in  thy  breast  perchance  quiet  is  found, 

But  above  thee  it  never  can  dwell. 

"  If  Balder  is  wroth,  why  not  take  up  his  sword? 

I  must  fall  if  he  fixes  my  doom  ; 
But  he  sits  in  the  sky,  mournful  thoughts  sending  down, 

That  forever  oppress  me  with  gloom." 


FRIDTHJOF'S  SAGA.  169 

Yet  when  battle's  at  hand  doth  his  spirit  soar  up, 

Like  an  eagle  that  mounts  to  the  sky, 
And  his  forehead  is  bright,  and  his  accents  are  loud, 

And  the  lightnings  flash  forth  from  his  eye. 

Thus  he  sailed  but  from  conquest  to  conquest  again, 

And  on  ocean  he  harbored  no  fear ; 
And  he  saw  many  climes  in  the  South,  and  at  last 

To  the  islands  of  Greece  he  drew  near. 

When  the  arbors  he  saw,  that  uprose  from  the  waves, 
And  the  temples  that  stood  midst  the  grove, 

What  he  thought  and  desired  only  Freya  can  feel, 
And  the  bosoms  of  mortals  that  love. 

"  It  is  here  I  have  dwelt — here  my  father  oft  spoke 

Of  the  temples  and  flowery  earth ; 
It  is  here  that  I  asked  her  to  dwell  and  to  love — 

She  remained  in  the  land  of  her  birth. 

"  Love  and  peace  to  these  valleys,  so  sweet  to  the  view, 

And  their  arbors  must  surely  belong ! 
Like  the  whispers  of  love  are  the  murmuring  streams, 

Like  a  bride-hymn  the  nightingale's  song. 

"  Where  is  Ingeborg  now  ?     She's  forgotten  me  long, 

For  her  king,  that  is  withered  and  old. 
Ah,  I  can  not  forget !     I  would  willingly  die, 

If  her  face  I  once  more  could  behold. 

"Three  years  have  now  passed  since  I  last  saw  my  land, 

That  land  where  but  honor  is  seen  ; 
Stand  those  glorious  hills  mid  the  heavens  of  blue? 

Are  the  valleys  in  Framnas  still  green  V 

"  In  the  North,  where  my  father  reposes  in  death, 

On  the  cairn  a  young  lime  tree  did  grow ; 
Who  shelters  it  now?    Give  thy  moisture,  (>  Earth, 

And  thy  (\r\\\  kindly  Heaven,  bestow  '. 


170  JVOBSE  FOLK-LOBE. 

"  Yet  why  linger  I  longer  in  foreign  domains, 

Take  ransom,  and  plunder  and  slay  ? 
I  have  honor  enough,  and  the  red,  naming  gold, 

With  abhorrence  I  hurl  it  away. 

"  Lo,  the  flag  on  my  mast !     To  the  northward  it  points, 
To  the  country  long  treasured  and  dear. 

I  will  follow  the  heavenly  breezes'  command, 
And  again  to  the  North  I  will  steer." 


THE    SAGA   OF  AXEL 

BY    ESAIAS   TEGNER. 
(TRANSLATED   BY   L.   A.    SHERMAN.) 

In  Bender  Sweden's  sovereign1  lay. 
His  foes  had  torn  his  lands  away ; 
His  glory  sinking  out  of  sight, 
His  people,  like  a  wounded  knight, 
Who  even  feels  death's  creeping  chill, 
Rose  on  its  knees,  resisting  still, 
And  hope  of  rescue  there  was  none, 
Except  in  Charles,  the  absent  one. 
Although  the  leaves  in  Fate's  dark  book 
Turned  in  the  storm,  though  Nature  shook, 
He  stood  calm  like  the  bombproof  wall, 
When  sacked  and  burning  cities  fall, 
Like  rocks  lashed  wildly  by  the  wave, 
Like  Resignation  on  a  grave. 

The  king  had  called,  one  afternoon, 
Young  Axel  in,  the  brave  dragoon  : 
"  Here,  take  this  letter,  and — away  ! 
Ride  for  your  life  both  night  and  day, 

»  Charles  XII,  "  The  madman  of  the  North." 


THE  SAGA  OF  AXEL.  171 

And  straightway,  when  you  reach  our  land, 
Deliver  to  the  council's  hand. 
Go  with  God's  help,  set  forth  to-night, 
And  greet  our  hills  and  northern  light ! " 

Young  Axel  dearly  loved  to  ride, 
And  glad  he  sewed  the  letter  in 
His  hollow  belt.     At  Holofzin 
His  father  fell  the  king  beside  ; 
And  orphaned  thus  this  son  of  arms 
Grew  up  amid  the  camp's  alarms. 
His  frame  was  strong,  such  as  of  old, 
AVhose  like  have  not  yet  vanished  all, 
Fresh  as  a  rose,  but  slight  and  tall, 
Like  pines  upon  the  Swedish  mould. 

The  keen-eyed  king  had  placed  him  in 
His  body-guard,  souls  near  of  kin. 
They  numbered  seven,  a  slender  troop 
As  arc  the  stars  of  Charles's  Wain, 
At  most  nine,  like  the  Muses'  group, 
And  bard  the  honor  was  to  gain. 
By  sword  and  fire  .their  claims  were  tried. 
They  were  a  Christian  viking-stock, 
Not  unlike  that  which  once  defied 
All  dangers  of  the  wave  and  rock. 
They  never  slept  upon  a  bed, 
But  on  their  cloaks  spread  on  the  ground, 
In  storms  and  northwest  snows  as  sound 
As  if  on  daisied  meads  instead. 
A  horseshoe  they  could  press  together, 
Ami  never  in  the:  wildest  weather 
Approached  the  bearthstone's  crackling  light, 
But  warmed  themselves  with  shot,1  each  one 
As  red  as  when  the  rayless  sun 


>  That  is,  by  a  red  hoi  cannon  ball  placed  at  the  middle  of  the  tent. 


172  MORSE  FOLK-LORE. 

Goes  down  in  blood  some  winter's  night. 

The  rule  was,  when  in  strife  exposed 

That  one  might  yield  if  seven  opposed, 

His  breast  still  turned  to  their  attack, 

For  none  must  ever  see  his  back. 

And  last  there  was  this  law  beside, 

The  most  austere,  perhaps,  of  all, 

To  let  no  maid  bring  them  in  thrall, 

Till  Charles  himself  should  take  a  bride. 

However  blue  two  eyes  might  smile, 

However  red  two  lips  beguile — 

They  all  must  shut  their  eyes,  or  flee  : 

Their  swords  were  pledged,  they  must  be  free. 

Young  Axel  saddled  glad  his  steed, 
And  rode  both  night  and  day  with  speed. 
When  Ukrane's  boundaries  drew  near 
The  sudden  gleam  of  lance  and  spear 
Flashed  round  him,  spurring  through  a  wood. 
At  once  the  ambush  rose  and  stood  : 
"  Thou  art  the  bearer  of  commands  ; 
Give  up  the  letter  to  our  hands  ; 
Dismount  and  give  it  up,  or  die." 
Then  rang  his  sword  its  swift  reply, 
And  he  who  spoke,  grown  wondrous  meek, 
Bowed  to  the  earth  with  piercing  shriek. 
His  back  now  screened  against  an  oak 
Now  Axel  meets  each  stroke  with  stroke. 
Wherever  fell  that  ponderous  sword, 
There  knees  were  bent  and  blood  was  poured : 
And  thus  he  gave  his  oath  support. 
Not  one  to  seven — that  were  but  sport — 
But  one  to  twenty  rang  his  blade  : 
Kesistance  such  as  Krake  made. 
To  life  by  hope  no  longer  bound, 
He  sought  but  fellowship  in  death. 


THE  SAGA  OF  AXEL.  173 

The  purple  mouth  of  many  a  wound 
Now  whispers  with  enfeebled  breath 
That  strength  and  life  are  taking  flight. 
His  hand  no  longer  knows  the  steel, 
And  swooning  darkness  sets  its  seal 
Upon  his  eyes— he  sinks  in  night ! 

"  Halloo  !  "     With  shouts  the  wood  resounds, 
And  falcons  bold  and  faithful  hounds 
Press  hard  upon  their  frightened  prey, 
And  now  the  hunters  dash  this  way. 
And  first  upon  a  roan-flecked  steed, 
And  vying  with  the  wind  for  speed, 
An  Amazon  rides  like  a  queen, 
With  cheek  of  rose  and  robe  of  green. 
The  robber  gang  affrighted  fled, 
But  she  whose  steed  chafed  at  the  dead 
Dismounted  with  a  single  bound 
Where  lay  he,  as  within  some  dale 
An  oak  thrown  prostrate  by  the  gale 
Lies  on  the  copse  which  clothes  the  ground. 
How  fair  he  lay,  though  bathed  in  gore ! 
And  over  him  Maria1  bent, 
As  fair  Diana2  long  before 
On  Latinos,  also  well  content 
That  dogs  and  din  of  chase  were  gone, 
Benl  over  her  Endymion. 
The  slumberer  who  caused  her  bliss 
Was  surely  not  more  fair  than  this. 
A  spark  of  life  had  still  endured 
Within  his  breast,  and,  soon  procured, 
They  raise  the  fallen  to  a  bier 
Of  interwoven  twigs,  and  bear 


i  pr0  I     Mar*  '...     Marie,  whicl curs  beyond 

nounced  Mare'. 

3  For  the  story  of  Diana  and  Endymion,  see  Grecian  mythology. 


174  NORSE  FOLK-LORE. 

It  slowly  forth  with  reverent  care, 
And  seek  her  dwelling,  which  was  near. 

She  sat  beside  his  conch,  oppressed 
With  anxious  cares  that  leave  their  trace, 
And  fastened  on  his  pallid  face 
A  look  well  worth  a  realm's  acquest. 
She  sat  as  in  the  groves  of  Greece 
(That  land  of  beauty  overthrown), 
The  wild  rose  blooms  in  noiseless  peace 
By  prostrate  Hercules  in  stone. 
At  last  he  wakes  to  consciousness, 
And  looks  around  him  in  distress. 
Alas  !  his  eye,  before  so  mild, 
Now  glares  deliriously  wild. 
"  Where  am  I  ?     Girl,  why  art  thou  here  ? 
To  King  Carl's  service  I  am  bound, 
And  must  not  look  on  thee ;  thy  tear 
I  will  not  have  within  my  wound. — 
My  sire  beyond  the  milky  way 
Is  wroth :  he  heard  the  oath  I  took. 
How  fair,  though,  is  the  tempter's  look ! 
How  winning  !     Satan,  hence  away  ! — 
Where  is  my  belt  and  my  commands? 
I  took  them  from  my  king's  own  hands. 
My  father's  sword  is  good,  it  smites 
With  special  hate  on  Muscovites. — 
Oh  !  what  delight  it  was  to  slay  ! 
I  would  the  king  had  seen  the  fray : 
Like  prostrate  harvests  lay  the  dead. 
It  almost  seemed  I  also  bled. — 
I  bore  dispatches  from  the  war, 
My  honor  stands  in  pledge  therefor. 
Waste  not  a  moment  more — away  ! " 
She  heard  his  ravings  with  dismay, 
While  swooning  sank  her  hero  then 
Exhausted  on  his  couch  a<rain. 


THE  SAGA  OF  AXEL.  175 

Thus  grappled  life  with  death  anew 
Till  life  had  won  the  youth  at  last, 
And  slowly  was  the  danger  passed, 
When  Axel  now  could  calmly  view 
With  glance  restored,  though  weak  and  dim, 
The  angel  bending  over  him. 
She  was  not  like  the  idyl's  queen, 
Who  roves  and  sighs  in  groves  of  green, 
The  counterfeit  of  languishing, 
With  locks  bright  gold  like  suns  of  spring, 
And  cheeks  deep-dyed  as  Julian  flowers, 
And  eyes  like  blue-bells  after  showers. 
She  was  an  Oriental  maid. 
Her  dark,  rich  locks,  which  fell  unstayed, 
Seemed  midnight  round  a  bed  of  roses; 
And  on  her  brow  was  throned  the  grace 
Of  cheerfulness,  as  in  the  face 
An  Amazonian  shield  exposes — 
The  face  and  mien  of  victory. 
Its  hue  was  like  Aurora's  1  haze, 
Which  artists  paint  with  clouds  of  rays. 
Of  form  so  shapely,  gait  so  free, 
She  seemed  a  Dryad  from  the  grove ; 
And  high  and  deep  her  bosom's  sea 
Of  youth  and  health  swelled  ceaselessly. 
A  body  all  divinely  wove 
Of  roses  red  and  lilies  white, 
A  soul  of  only  fire  and  light — 
A  summer  and  a  southern  sky 
With  fragrance  filled  and  golden  beams. 
She  cast  on  all  a  glance  as  proud 
As  looks  Jove's  eagle  from  the  cloud, 
Yet  mild  as  are  the  doves  that  bear 
The  car  of  Venus  through  the  air. 


1  For  accounts  of  Aurora,  the   Dryads,  Jove,  and  Venus,  see  Grecian  my- 
thology. 


176  NORSE  FOLK-LORE. 

0  Axel !     "Wounds  soon  lose  their  smart, 
And  nothing  but  the  scars  remain. 
Thy  breast  is  healed,  thy  thoughts  are  sane, 
But  ah!  how  is  it  with  thy  heart? 
Look  not  so  fondly  at  the  hand 
Which  bound  thy  wounds  with  gentle  band ; 
That  hand,  as  white  as  sculptor's  stone — 
It  must  not  linger  in  thine  own. 
It  is  more  dangerous  by  far 
Than  angry  Turkish  hands  last  year, 
In  Bender,  callous  with  the  spear 
And  ci meter,  and  many  a  scar. 
Those  lips  so  fresh  in  changeless  red, 
Which  only  whisper  when  they  ope 
In  spirit-lays  of  trust  and  hope — 
Far  better  didst  thou  hear  instead 
Czar  Peter's  hundred  cannon  roar 
In  line  at  Pultava  once  more. 
When  pale  thou  walkest  in  the  heat, 
With  drooping  limbs  and  stumbling  feet, 
Lean,  Axel,  on  thy  sword  alone, 
Not  on  that  arm  beside  thine  own, 
Which  Love  hath  formed  so  round  and  fair 
That  he  might  make  his  pillow  there. 

0  Love  !  all  miracles  in  one  ! 
Thou  breath  of  universal  bliss  ! 
Thou  breeze  of  heaven  which  comes  to  kiss 
Life's  groves  beneath  their  sweltering  sun  ! 
Thou  open  heart  in  Nature's  breast, 
The  solace  both  of  gods  and  men  ! 
Each  ocean-drop  clings  to  the  rest, 
And  all  the  stars  that  smile  above 
Wind  on  from  pole  to  pole  again 
Their  bride-dance  round  the  suns  they  love. 
Yet  love  is  in  the  human  mind 


THE  SAGA  OF  AXEL.  177 

But  twilight  of  remembered  rays 
From  fairer  and  from  better  days,1 
When  once  a  little  maid  she  twined 
The  dance  in  heaven's  azure  hall 
With  silver  crowns  on  arch  and  wall, 
And  when  in  weariness  would  rest, 
Slept  nestled  on  her  father's  breast. 
Then  was  she  rich  as  reason's  powers 
Of  growth,  her  speech  was  only  prayer, 
And  each  her  brother  of  the  fair 
And  winged  sons  in  heaven's  bowers. 
But  ah  !  she  fell ;  and  here  her  love 
Is  no  more  pure  like  that  above. 
Yet  in  the  lover  oft  she  traces 
Lines  from  her  heavenly  kindred's  faces, 
And  hears  their  voice  in  notes  of  spring, 
And  in  the  songs  the  ports  sing. 

Eow  glad,  how  sweet  that  moment  is  ! 

As  when  upon  some  desert  track 

The  Swiss  hears  sounds  which  straight  bring  back 

His  Alpine  childhood's  memories. 

The  sun  was  sinking.     Evening  lay 
Still  couched  and  dreaming  in  the  west, 
And  mute  as  priests  of  Egypt  pressed 
The  stars  alomr  their  opening  way  : 
And  earth  stood  in  the  evening's  hush 
As  blessed  as  a  bride  stands  fair 
With  diamonds  in  her  raven  hair, 
And  veil  whirh  hides  not,  smile  or  blush. 
From  all  day  sports  now  seeking  rest 
The  Naiad  smiled  in  glad  rep 
While  twilight's  blush  with  hue  of  rose 
Glowed  tremblingly  upon  her  brea 


i  The  author  docs  not  here  personify  love,  but,  reversing  the  proce 
si.lcrs  it,  onee  a  per  on  and  inhabitanl  of  heaven,  now  degraded  to  be  ■■>  mere 
quality  on  earth. 

FOLK-LORE    12 


178  NORSE  FOLK-LOBE. 

The  Cupids,  bound  while  day-beams  crown 
The  gazing  sky,  are  loosed,  and  rove 
With  bow  and  arrows  up  and  down 
Upon  the  moonbeams  in  the  grove, — 
The  darksome  green  triumphal  gate 
Which  spring  had  entered  through  of  late. 
•  From  dripping  oaks  the  nightingale 

Struck  notes  which  echoed  through  the  dale 

As  tender,  innocent,  and  chaste 

As  lays  which  Franzen's1  muse  has  graced. 

It  was  as  if,  her  cares  dismissed, 

Now  Nature  kept  her  hour  of  tryst, 

All  stir,  and  yet  such  hush  complete 

Thou  might'st  have  heard  her  bosom  beat. 

Then  did  the  twain  in  winsome  bliss 

Together  rove  the  hours  away. 

As  groom  and  bride  change  rings,  so  they 

Exchanged  their  childhood's  memories. 

He  told  her  of  the  days  he  spent 

Still  in  his  mother's  house  content, 

Which,  built  of  fir  and  painted  red, 

Stood  lone,  with  pines  on  every  hand, 

And  of  his  cherished  fatherland, 

And  of  dear  sisters,  all  now  dead. 

Then  told  he  how  his  soul  was  stirred 

By  all  the  battle-songs  he  heard, 

And  sagas  which,  whoever  reads, 

Will  Avake  desire  for  valiant  deeds, 

And  how  he  dreamed  full  many  a  night 

He  sat  in  armor  burnished  white 

Upon  the  giant  charger  Grane, 

And  rode  like  Sigurd,2  Fafner's-bane 

Through  Vafur's  flames,  to  where  the  maid 


»  A  poet-bishop  of  Sweden,  much  admired  by  Teener. 

a  For  the  storv  of  Sk'urd  the  Volsune.  see  German  Folk-lore. 


THE  SAGA   OF  AXEL.  179 

Of  memory  dwells  in  castle  walls 

Which  gleam  afar  when  evening  falls 

Throughout  the  mountain  laurel  glade. 

Thick  grew  his  breath,  close  grew  his  room, 

He  rushed  out  in  the  forest's  gloom, 

Climbed  up  and  joined  with  boyish  glee 

The  eagle  on  the  highest  tree, 

And  rocked  before  the  northern  blast. 

It  cooled  his  cheek,  it  cooled  his  heart. 

How  happy,  could  he  but  depart 

Upon  the  cloud-wain  hurrying  past, 

And  wend  him  yonder  through  the  air 

To  that  far  world  so  bright  and  fair, 

Where  Victory  beckons,  and  Renown 

Stands  holding  out  her  laurel  crown, 

And  where  King  Charles  (though  he  has  known 

But  seven  more  years  of  youth  than  thou) 

Is  plucking  crowns  from  Europe's  brow, 

And  keeping  none  except  his  own. 

"  At  length  I  won,  at  fifteen  years, 

My  mother's  blessing,  and  with  tears 

Embraced  her,  and  to  camp  I  went ; 

And  there  my  life  has  since  been  spent, 

And  has  shone  true  as  beacon  rays 

Amid  the  rage  and  rush  of  men. 

Yet  saw  I  birds  come  back  again, 

Ami  feed  their  young  on  summer  days, 

Or  saw  I  boys  who  lay  and  played 

Beside  some  brook  in  flowers  and  shade; 

Then  did  the  roar  of  guns  grow  fuint, 

For  peaceful  \  isions  rose  between 

of  golden  harvests,  g roves  of  green, 

And  children  glad  in  unrestraint; 

Ami  by  a  quiet  cotia.Lr<'  door 

A  maiden  stood,  and  evening's  (lame 

hit  up  her  face,  which  was  the  same 


180  NORSE  FOLK-LORE. 

I  oft  in  dreams  had  seen  before. 
And  now  these  pictures  seek  me  here, 
And  in  my  mind  throng  ceaselessly ; 
I  shut  my  eyes,  and  yet  I  see 
Them  not  less  animate  and  clear — 
And  find  the  maid  of  my  idea 
An  image  of  thyself,  Maria  !  " 

Embarrassed  then  replied  Marie : 
"  How  blest  of  fortune  is  your  sex ! 
No  chains  of  destiny  can  vex 
Your  strength,  born  only  to  be  free  ; 
And  danger's  spell,  and  honor's  throne — 
Yea,  earth  and  heaven,  are  yours  alone. 
But  woman's  destiny  is  sealed 
As  man's  appendage  to  his  life, 
A  bandage  on  his  wounds  in  strife, 
Forgotten  when  they  once  are  healed. 
She  is  the  sacrifice,  but  he 
The  flame  that  soars,  and  shines  afar. — 
My  sire  fell  battling  for  the  Czar ; 
My  mother's  face  can  memory 
But  dimly  trace,  and  here  her  child 
In  solitude  grew  strong  and  wild 
Within  these  halls,  without  caress, 
Where  worship  serfs,  if  in  each  whim 
Their  master  find  they  humor  him, 
The  idol  of  their  wretchedness. 
The  noble  soul  must  grow  ashamed 
Of  life  so  willing  to  be  tamed. 
Hast  thou  seen  roam  the  steppes'  vast  space 
Our  beautiful,  wild  charger  race? 
Bold  as  the  chief,  fleet  like  the  doe, 
It  serves  and  knows  no  master's  will, 
But  pricks  its  ear,  and,  standing  still, 
Scents  danger  in  the  winds  that  blow, 


THE  SAGA   OF  AXEL.  181 

Then  sudden  in  a  cloud  of  dust 

It  darts  away  from  its  mistrust — 

Fights  all  the  foes  it  ever  had 

With  hoof  unshod,  chafes,  or  is  glad. 

4  How  blest,  ye  children  of  the  plains, 

How  sweet  and  free  your  green  domains  ! ' 

So  have  I  cried,  and  bid  them  stay, 

Whenever  on  my  Tartar  steed 

I  have  approached  with  careful  speed 

Their  throng,  and  myriad-answering  neigh. 

Obeying  not,  with  scornful  eye 

They  looked  at  us  and  passed  us  by. 

Intolerable  then  became 

These  halls,  so  endlessly  the  same. 

Then  zealously  I  won  the  skill 

To  brave  the  wolves  upon  the  hill, 

The  vultures  in  their  native  air, 

And  rescued  often  from  the  bear 

A  life  before  of  little  worth. 

Alas!  although  we  strive  from  birth, 

We  can  not,  Nature,  thwart  thy  will. 

Be  it  a  throne  sheets  upon, 

As  peasant  maid  or  Amazon, 

Thy  woman  is  a  woman  still, 

A  withering  vine  if  not  upheld, 

A  being  with  its  half  withheld  : 

No  unshared  joy  can  she  possess, 

For  twin-born  is  her  happiness. 

Within  my  heart  there  ever  beats 

A  pain,  yet  sweeter  home  than  not, 

A  yearning  for  I  know  not  what, 

80  grievous,  yet  so  full  of  sweets. 

It  has  no  limits,  has  no  aim  : 

It  is  as  if  with  wings  ii  came 

And  bore  me  upward  from  the  base 

And  groveling  earth  to  yonder  space, 


182  NORSE  FOLK-LOBE. 

Where  stars  and  suns  with  gathering  light 

Surround  God's  throne  in  farthest  night ; 

Again,  as  if  I  fell  apace, 

Down  from  the  dizzy  heights  above, 

Ye  dear  existences,  to  you, 

Ye  trees  with  which  through  life  I  grew, 

Thou  brook,  with  all  thy  songs  of  love, 

Thou  cliff  with  flowers  upon  thy  brow  ! 

A  thousand  times  have  I  seen  you, 

But  as  a  statue's  face  might  view— 

I  love  you  now — first  love  you  now  ! 

I  do  not  love  myself  so  much — 

A  sentiment  of  nobler  touch 

I  find  within,  since  I  .  .  ."     Then  sped 

Across  her  cheek  the  deepest  red, 

And  what  her  words -left  unexpressed 

Was  in  a  half-sigh  uttered  best. 

And  all  was  hushed,  except  the  lone 
Far  nightingale  renewed  its  song, 
And  in  a  kiss  that  lingered  long, 
Their  souls  communing  blissfully 
Dissolved  in  perfect  harmony. 
They  kissed  as  kiss  in  sacrifice 
Two  altar-flames,  which  thus  unite, 
And  shine  with  an  intenser  light 
As  nearer  heaven's  door  they  rise. 
To  them  the  world  had  fled  from  sight, 
And  time  desisted  from  its  flight. 
Each  hour  of  time's  mortality 
Is  measured  by  the  strictest  line, 
But  death's  cold  kiss,  and  love's  divine 
Are  children  of  eternity. 


THE  SAGA   OF  AXEL.  183 

From  their  celestial  flight  restored 
Spake  Axel  first :  "  Now  by  my  sword, 
By  Northland's  honor,  by  each  star, 
Which  like  a  bride-maid  standing  far 
Looks  down  on  us  with  beams  benign — 
By  earth  and  heaven,  thou  art  mine ! 
Oh  !  it  were  blessed,  far  from  strife, 
In  some  sweet  vale  where  peace  has  made 
Her  home  beneath  the  mountain's  shade, 
To  live  with  thee  in  blended  life. 
Alas !  my  oath,  my  oath  prevents. 
With  hateful  look,  as  here  we  stand, 
It  speechless  thrusts  its  icy  band 
Between  our  hearts,  and  bids  me  hence. 
But  fear  not ;  I  shall  be  released 
With  honor  from  my  stringent  oath, 
And  when  next  May  shall  bid  us  both 
To  her  luxuriant,  floral  feast, 
Then  shall  I  surely  come  again, 
And  claim  thee  as  my  bride,  my  wife. 
Farewell,  thou  jewel  of  my  life  ! 
Farewell — a  long  farewell  till  then ! " 

And  with  the  word  he  turned  away. 
He  took  his  sword,  and  king's  commands, 
And  through  Czar  Peter's  hundred  lands 
Resumed  his  swift  and  dangerous  way, 
Oft  hid  in  woods  the  whole  day  through, 
And  guided  in  his  paths  by  night 
From  heaven's  peerless  signal  light— 
The  star  of  Northland,  steadfast,  true, 
Or  by  those  stars  in  heaven's  crown, 
Which  know  no  hour  of  going  down, 
The  W  ; 1 1 1 1  of  Charles,  with  urgent  beam, 
And  wheel-spikes  forged  of  brightest  gold. 
And  thus  he  rode  through  risks  extreme, 


184  MORSE  FOLK-LORE. 

And  hordes  of  foemen  manifold, 
To  Millar's  palace,1  where  amid 
The  council's  wonderment  he  told 
How  had  escaped  their  sovereign  bold, 
And  gave  the  letter  as  he  bid. 

But  meanwhile  in  her  vacant  halls 
Maria  murmured  Axel's  name, 
In  woods  her  sighs  repeat  the  same, 
And  vales  and  hills  send  back  her  calls. 
"  What  oath,  pray,  was  it  so  austere? 
Some  maid  in  that  bleak  land  so  dear, 
An  older  flame  ?  or  is  there  more 
Than  one '?     My  heart  spurns  three  or  four ! 
Thou  Northern  maid  in  snow  attire, 
One  of  us  twain  must  to  the  grave  ! 
Thou  knowest  naught  of  Southern  fire. 
Beyond  thy  farthest  frozen  wave, 
Beyond  thy  snow-peaks  burdened  high, 
I'll  search  thee  out,  for  thou  must  die  ! 
Yet — went  not  Axel  when  a  boy 
From  home  ?     Nor  has  he  since  that  day 
Returned,  and  far  from  all  annoy 
Of  camps  and  strife  love  flees  away. 
Yes,  only  truth  and  honor  dwell 
On  such  a  brow,  and  arched  so  well. 
His  steadfast  gaze  have  I  looked  through, 
Down  to  the  bottom  of  his  heart, 
As  deep  the  searching  sunbeams  dart 
Through  spring-depths,  clear  and  silver-blue. 
Why  fleest  thou  then  ?     What  craved  the  test 
Of  oaths  ?     Was  it  to  crush  this  breast  ? 
What — but  in  space  my  protest  dies — 
A  widow  faint  with  bitter  sighs, 

i  The  palace  at  Stockholm,  on  Lake  Malar. 


THE  SAGA   OF  AXEL.  183 

A  dove  which  roams  with  weary  cry 
Through  earth  and  heaven  without  reply. 
Yes,  forests  sigh  and  torrents  fall 
Between  us,  he  hears  not  my  call. 
What !  if  I  followed  him  ?— But  no  ! 
It  were  not  meet  for  woman  so. 
A  woman — who  will  know  ?     If  I 
But  wear  a  sword,  the  man  is  made. 
With  danger  I  have  often  played, 
And  staked  life  when  I  threw  the  die. 
From  horseback  I  was  never  thrown, 
Nor  ever  carbine  failed  me  aught. 
Yes,  God  inspired  in  me  the  thought. 
Now,  Axel,  thou  art  all  my  own  ! 
I  seek  thee  in  thy  land  of  birth, 
I  search  for  thee  throughout  the  earth, 
From  dale  to  dale,  from  strand  to  strand, 
And  all  oaths  from  thy  lips  I  wring. 
Now  take  me,  War,  upon  thy  wing, 
And  set  me  down  in  Axel's  land  !" 

So  said,  so  done.     Resolve  and  deed 
Are  one  with  woman,  and  with  speed 
She  is  disguised.     A  casque  compressed 
And  hid  her  dark  abundant  hair, 
A  doublet  stayed  her  swelling  breast, 
Eer  powder-sack  she  filled  with  care, 
And  from  her  fair  white  shoulder  slung 
Death's  telescope,  her  carabine. 
Down  from  a  belt  of  Greek  design 
A  crooked  saber  gleaming  hung, 
Ami  cither  lip  and  cheek  she  smeared 
With  black—  the  hint  of  future  heard. 

She  seemed,  thus  girt  with  belt  and  sword, 
Like  Love  in  hero's  garb  concealed, 


186  NORSE  FOLK-LORE. 

Or  Klinias'  son's  fair  form  restored, 
Once  painted  on  the  gleaming  shield. 

"  Farewell,  my  father's  home,  farewell ! 
I  shall  return  with  love  and  dwell 
Again  within  thy  walls  some  day. 
I  can  not  wait,  I  must  away. 
Hide  me  beneath  thy  veil,  0  Night, 
And  give  my  Axel  to  my  sight." 
Already  lay  upon  the  strands 
Of  slumbering  Sweden's  vanquished  lands 
Czar  Peter's  city,  which  has  since 
Held  crowns  in  pledge  from  many  a  prince. 
Then  was  it  paltry.     On  its  bay 
It  like  a  newborn  dragon  lay. 
Yet  nature  is  betrayed  in  young 
That  coils  itself  on  heated  sands,  - 
Already  venom  in  its  glands, 
And  hisses  on  its  cloven  tongue. 
A  fleet  to  ravage  Svea's1  shores 
Was  lading  there  with  murderous  stores, 
And  thitherward  Maria  pressed, 
And  where  the  ships  received  their  hoard 
Traced  out  her  way,  and  made  request 
That  she  might  have  a  place  on  board. 
An  officer  who  walked  the  quay, 
And  saw,  surprised,  addressed  her  then  : 
"  You  seem  more  dangerous,  Sir  youth, 
To  Northern  maids  than  Northern  men. 
However  it  shall  go  with  thee, 
They  can  not  tweak  thy  beard,  forsooth ! 
Yet  thou  canst  learn  of  them  the  whole 
Of  war  :  it  is  for  death  or  life  ; 
But  either  issue  of  the  strife 
God  and  Saint  Nicholas  control." 


i  Svea  is  a  poetical  name  of  Sweden. 


THE  SAGA   OF  AXEL.  187 

The  sails  are  set,  the  keel  cuts  through 
The  foam,  and  hastens  toward  the  west, 
And  Svea's  cliffs  soon  rise  to  view 
In  sunset  flames  :  they  stand  at  rest 
Amid  the  swirl  of  tide  and  wave, 
The  giant  landmarks  Nature  gave 
Of  old  to  warn  of  dangerous  strands. 
They  landed  on  the  famous  sands 
Which  skirt  the  base  of  Sota's  reef, 
Where  parted  Hjalmar  from  the  side 
Of  Ingeborg,  his  faithful  bride, 
Where  afterward  she  died  of  grief, 
When  Odin  called  the  youth  above 
To  ValhalPs  courts,  to  do  his  will ; 
And  there  her  ghost  sits  lingering  still 
Upon  the  cliff  and  mourns  her  love. 

But  towns  are  blazing  one  by  one, 
And  children  shriek  and  women  fly  ; 
Too  well  they  know  the  war  begun, 
And  bells  are  ringing  far  and  nigh 
Both  night  and  day  the  call  to  arms. 
Alas  !  the  dead  hear  no  alarms. 
Woe  !   wretched  land  !  what  arm  can  save? 
Thy  valiant  men  are  in  their  grave. 
But  still  the  peril  of  the  land 
Joins  boys  and  old  men  in  a  band 
With  swords  which  smote  on  German  mail, 
And  saw  Gustavus's  hosts  prevail, 
And  halberds  wielded  with  dispatch 
In  Denmark,  worn  with  victory, 
And  curious  shapes  of  musketry 
With  rusted  locks,  and  kindled  match. 
Such  was  the  kingdom's  sole  defense, 
A  paltry  troop,  and  weaponed  ill  ; 
Without  surprise  or  doubt  it  still 


188  NORSE  FOLK-LOBE. 

Went  forth  to  drive  the  foemen  thence. 
These  did  not  battle  hand  to  hand, 
But  spread  their  cloud  across  the  land, 
And  lightened  from  the  mountain's  crown 
Where  boldest  hearts  could  not  aspire, 
And  unrevenged  death  thundered  down 
On  scanty  ranks  with  ceaseless  fire. 

But  then,  as  cometh  angry  Thor 
With  hammer,  girt  with  manhood's  belt, 
'    So  Axel  came  and   joined  the  war, 
Where  flight  prevailed  and  horror  dwelt — 
An  angel  sent  in  time  of  need. 
His  arm  is  death,  his  glance  a  frown  ; 
He  posts  his  men,  spurs  up  and  down 
The  lines  upon  his  foam- white  steed. 
"  Stand,  Swedes,  close  up  the  ranks  again  ! 
I  have  been  sent  by  Carl  to  bring 
His  greeting  home  to  all  his  men. 
Our  watchword,  God,  and  Carl  our  king ! " 
"  God  and  King  Charles  ! "  sound  through  the  field. 
They  follow  where  he  leads  the  way, 
And  heights  from  which  the  death-shots  play 
Are  stormed,  and  in  a  moment  yield. 
And  so  was  stopped  the  throat  of  hell, 
And  fields  were  sown  with  weapons  well, 
And  blindly  raged  the  sword  throughout 
The  terrible  and  bloody  rout, 
Till  awe-struck  swept  the  robber-band, 
With  quick-snatched  cables  foom  the  strand. 

Now  like  a  sated  beast  of  prey 
Lay  Slaughter  sleeping  on  the  field. 
From  heaven's  tent  the  moon  revealed 
The  awful  scene  with  pitying  ray. 
Along  the  shore,  with  sighs,  alone, 
Went  Axel  where  the  dead  were  strewn. 


THE  SAGA   OF  AXEL.  189 

They  lay  by  twos,  men  face  to  face  : 

How  fierce  the  grasp  of  their  embrace  ! 

A  faithful  clasp  wouldst  thou  behold  ? 

Think  not  of  lovers  who  infold 

Each  other,  smiling  tenderly  ; 

Go  to  the  battlefield  and  see 

How  hate,  inflamed  by  death's  fierce  smart, 

Can  press  its  foeman  to  its  heart ! 

Ah  !  charms  of  love  and  happiness 

Are  fleeting  as  the  zephyr's  breath, 

But  hate,  and  sorrow,  and  distress 

Are  faithful  even  unto  death. 

Thus  musing,  in  the  darkness  nigh  ^ 

He  heard  the  words  of  weak  complaint : 

"  0  Axel,  water  !     I  am  faint — 

A  last  farewell  before  I  die  ! " 

He  started  at  the  well-known  sounds, 

And  looking  on  the  rocks  espied 

A  youth  unknown  who  leaned  beside 

The  sharp  cliff,  pale  and  weak  with  wounds. 

The  moon  broke  through  the  cloud  and  shone 

Upon  the  face,  and  with  a  groan 

Of  trembling  horror  bitterly 

He  shrieked,  "  0  Jesus,  it  is  she  !  " 

Yes,  it  was  she.     Despite  constraint 
Of  pain  she  spoke  in  accents  faint: 
"Adieu,  O  Axel  !   we  must  part, 
|.\„.  death  stand,  knocking  at  my  heart. 
Ask  not  why  we  meet,  here  to-day. 
Naughl  but  mv  love  brings  me  away. 

Oh!  when  the  endless  shadows  close, 

And  man  stands  by  death's  open  door, 
II,,w  changed  from  what,  it  was  before 

Seems  life  with  all  its  paltry  woes; 


190  NORSE  FOLK-LORE. 

And  nothing  but  a  love  like  ours 

Shall  rise  with  him  to  heaven's  powers  ! 

I  craved  to  know  thy  oath  austere, 

And  that  it  was  which  brought  me  here. 

Now  shall  I  search  it  out  on  high 

Among  the  stars  of  purest  ray 

Where  it  is  writ,  and  shall  espy 

Thine  innocence  as  bright  as  they. 

I  know  I  acted  foolishly, 

I  know  thou  sorely  mournest  me. 

Forgive  me,  for  my  love  and  trust, 

Each  tear  let  fall  upon  my  dust ! 

I  had  not  brother,  sire,  or  mother ; 

Thou  wast  my  mother,  father,  brother — 

Thou  wast  my  all !     0  Axel,  swear 

In  death  that  I  am  dear  to  thee ! 

Thou  sayst  it — thou  contentest  me. 

The  sweetest  of  its  sagas  rare 

Hath  life  told  me.     Shall  we  not  part, 

Thy  maiden  folded  to  thy  heart  ? 

And  shall  not  here  her  dust  be  blended 

With  this  dear  soil  thou  hast  defended  ? 

See,  Axel,  yonder  cloud  shut  in 

The  moon.     When  it  shines  out  again 

I  shall  be  dead.     My  spirit  then 

Shall  on  far-distant  shores  begin 

To  pray  all  good,  and  with  all  eyes 

Of  heaven,  watch  thee  from  the  skies. 

Set  on  my  grave  a  Southern  rose, 

And  when  in  snows  its  bloom  shall  fade, 

Child  of  the  sun,  think  of  thy  maid 

Who  slumbers  under  Northern  snows. 

Her  morning  years  were  quickly  passed — 

See,  Axel,  now  the  cloud  moves  fast — 

Farewell — farewell !  " — She  sank,  and  sighed, 

And  pressed  her  lover's  hand,  and  died. 


THE  SAGA  OF  AXEL.  191 

Then  forth  from  realms  of  nether  air 
Not  death,  but  death's  young  brother  rose- 
Pale,  fierce  insanity,  which  goes 
With  poppy  wreaths  in  streaming  hair, 
And  glares  up  sometimes  at  the  sky, 
And  sometimes  downward  at  the  earth 
Distorts  its  ashen  lips  in  mirth, 
And  weeps  from  its  low-burning  eye. 
It  comes  and  touches  Axel's  brain, 
And  ever  afterwards  his  feet 
Pace  round  the  grave  Avith  restless  beat, 
As  once  in  saga-days  the  slain 
Were  wont  to  flit,  and  linger  nigh 
Where  some  deep-buried  treasure  lay, 
And  all  the  shore  heard  night  and  day 
His  pitiful,  dejected  cry  :— 
"  Be  still,  ye  billows  !  cease  your  roar : 
Ye  must  not  smite  so  on  the  shore. 
What  do  ye  but  disturb  my  dreams? 
I  can  not  love  your  foamy  streams 
That  dance  blood-mixed  along  the  sands, 
For  ye  bring  death  to  these  my  strands. 
Here  lately  lay  a  youth  and  bled, 
And  roses  on  his  grave  I  spread, 
For  he  was  like — 1  know  well  whom  ; 
I  hear  her  home  in  spring's  first  bloom. 
They  tell  me  that  earth  lulls  my  love 
To  slumber,  that  grass  grows  above 
Ber  faithful  breast  :  they  are  deceived— 
She  sat  upon  the  rock  and  grieved, 
Pale  was  she  as  one  painteth  death — 
But  that  came  of  the  moon's  faint  light  ; 
And  cold  her  lips  and  cheek  that  night — 
That  came  hut  of  the  north  wind's  breath. 
I  bade  niv  own  beloved  stay, 
Her  linger  stroked  my  locks  away  : 


192  NORSE  FOLK-LORE. 

My  brain  was  dark  and  heavy  then, 
But  soon  methought  it  light  again. 
Far  off  in  yonder  east  there  shine 
The  vanished  days,  alas  !  how  few, 
Those  days  as  fair  as  heaven's  blue 
When  Axel  lived  the  life  divine. 
A  castle  stood  in  groves  of  green, 
And  in  that  castle  dwelt  a  queen. 
I  lay  in  forests  murdered  there ; 
She  brought  my  life  back  in  a  kiss, 
And  from  her  heart  she  gave  me  bliss, 
Her  heart  of  love,  so  warm  and  rare. 
Now  lies  it  frozen  in  her  breast, 
Her  withering  breast,  and  all  is  past ! — 
Ye  stars  of  yonder  spaces  vast, 
Take  off  from  me  your  burning  eyes ! 
A  morning  star,  as  bright  as  ye, 
I  saw  sink  in  a  bloody  sea. 
It  smells  of  blood  yet  by  the  strand, 
And  blood  there  is  upon  my  hand." 

Such  was  his  plaint  on  Sota's  shore, 
Where  yet  he  stands  at  break  of  day, 
At  nightfall  will  not  go  away, 
But  lingers  weeping  as  before. 
One  morning  saw  him  lifeless  there, 
His  hands  clasped  upward  as  in  prayer, 
While  on  his  cheeks  the  last  tears  lie, 
Half  stiffened  in  the  morning's  chill ; 
But  on  the  grave  is  fastened  still 
The  viewless  luster  of  his  eye. 


GEKMAN   FOLK-LOEE. 

The  mythology  of  the  Germans,  which  seems  to  have 
passed  from  the  minds  of  the  people  about  the  time  of  the 
Reformation,  has  been  revived  within  the  past  century  and  a 
half,  and  is  to-day  more  fondly  cherished  than  ever  before. 
It  is  artistically  grouped  in  two  great  epic  cycles  of  poetry, 
centuries  old.  The  materials  of  which  it  is  composed  are 
very  ancient,  and  originated  in  an  era  antecedent  to  written 
history.  They  are,  in  fact,  a  part  of  the  hereditary  posses- 
sion of  the  Aryan  race,  and  are  traced  by  Max  Miiller  and 
others  to  an  origin  in  common  with  that  of  other  Aryan 
mythologies.  In  Germany  and  in  the  Norse  countries  they 
assume  a  local  form  and  coloring,  and  are  thoroughly  repre- 
sentative of  the  peoples  by  whom  they  have  been  developed 
into  their  present  poetic  forms.  In  the  south  German  cycle, 
dim  traditions  of  old  historical  events  are  seen  to  have  been 
insensibly  combined  with  the  fables  of  antiquity. 

Siegfried,  the  hero3  was  a  prince  of  the  lower  Rhine,  the 
son  of  Kino  SlGMUND  and  Queen  SlEGELIND,  who  dwelt 
in  the  strong  castle  of  Santen.  In  his  youth  he  slew  a  dragon, 
and  bathed  in  its  blood,  which  possessed  the  charm  of  ren- 
dering  invulnerable  the  portions  of  the  body  which  it  touched. 
Unfortunately,  a  linden  leaf  lodged  upon  his  back,  between 
his  shoulders,  and  clung  there,  preventing  the  entire  appli- 
cation of  the  blood, and  leaving  a  vulnerable  spot.  Siegfried 
rode  forth  into  the  land  of  old  King  Xihelung,  where  there 
was  a  cavern  containing  a  vast  hoard  of  golden  treasure. 
S<  im.i'.rxi,  and  Nibeli  KG,  sons  of  the  old  King,  quarreled 

FOLK-LORE      13 


194  GERMAN  FOLK-LORE. 

over  their  inheritance.  Siegfried  slew  them  and  their  body- 
guard of  twelve  giants  and  possessed  himself  of  the  treasure, 
which  he  committed  to  the  keeping  of  the  dwarf  Alberich, 
in  the  cave.  The  young  knight  obtained  from  the  slain 
princes  the  famous  sword  Balmung,  and  from  the  dwarf  the 
magic  cloak  Tarnkappe,  which  rendered  the  wearer  invisible 
and  endowed  him  with  the  strength  of  twelve  men.  Sieg- 
fried wooed  and  won  the  beautiful  princess  Kriemhild,  daugh- 
ter of  King  Dankrat  and  Queen  Ute,  of  the  great  Bur- 
gundian  kingdom,  the  capital  of  which  was  Worms. 

He  was  treacherously  slain  by  Hagen,  the  uncle  of  King 
Gunther,  son  of  Dankrat.  Michelet  says  of  Siegfried,  "  In 
this  colossal  figure  are  combined  what  Greece  divided — heroic 
strength  and  the  passion  for  travel— Achilles  and  Ulysses." 

Kriemhild  was  a  princess  of  rare  beauty  and  estate,  re- 
siding with  her  three  royal  brothers,  Gunther,  Gernot,  and 
Giselher,  in  the  ancient  city  of  Worms,  where  she  was  wooed 
and  won  by  Siegfried,  who  came  to  her  country  as  a  wander- 
ing knight,  and  distinguished  himself  by  great  services  to  her 
brothers.  She  accompanied  Siegfried  to  the  Netherlands, 
where  he  was  crowned  king,  and  where  she  received  as  her 
bridal  portion  the  title  to  the  golden  treasure  of  the  Nibe- 
lungs.  She  bore  a  child,  who  was  named  Gunther,  in  honor  of 
her  brother.  Returning  with  Siegfried  to  Worms  to  visit  King 
Gunther,  she  became  involved  in  a  jealous  quarrel  with  Queen 
Brunhild,  through  whose  machinations  she  lost  her  husband 
and  her  hoard  of  treasure.  Becoming  transformed  by  her 
wrongs  into  a  demon  of  hate,  she  entered  upon  a  career  of 
vengeance.  She  was  sought  in  marriage  by  Etzel,  King  of 
the  Huns,  and  became  his  bride.  Inviting  her  brothers  and 
their  knights  to  visit  the  capital  of  Etzel,  she  compassed  their 
destruction,  and  was  herself  slain  by  one  of  her  subjects. 
Forestier  says  of  Kriemhild  :  "  She  does  not  purpose  at  first 
the  destruction  of  any  but  her  arch-enemy,  Hagen ;  but  the 
spirit  by  her  set  afloat  grows  and  gains  strength  until  all  are 
overcome  by  its  power;  Kriemhild  herself  perishes  in  the 


GERMAN  FOLK-LOBE.  198 

great  massacre,  but  not  until  the  hoard,  the  accursed  (which, 
although  no  longer  the  main  motive  power,  gives  abundant 
evidence  of  its  mischievous  nature),  is  the  cause  of  her  hav- 
ing Gunther,  the  last  remaining  brother,  beheaded,  and  her- 
self bringing  his  head  to  Hagen." 

Brunhild  was  the  Queen  of  Isenland  (not  Iceland,  as 
some  have  supposed,  but  Yssel,  now  a  province  of  Holland), 
and  was  wooed  by  King  Gunther.  She  agreed  to  be  the 
bride  of  the  man  who  should  be  able  to  compete  with  her  in 
three  trials  of  strength  and  skill  in  hurling  the  lance,  throw- 
ing a  stone,  and  leaping.  Through  the  assistance  of  Sieg- 
fried, who  was  rendered  invisible  and  supernaturally  strong 
by  means  of  his  coat,  Tarnkappe,  Gunther  was  made  to  ap- 
pear the  victor,  and  won  the  Queen  for  his  bride.  Brunhild 
became  offended  with  her  husband,  and  by  her  superior 
strength  bound  him  with  a  magic  girdle,  and  hung  him  upon 
a  nail  in  the  wall  of  the  bridal  chamber.  The  unhappy  king 
was  relieved  by  Siegfried,  who  entered  the  chamber  enveloped 
in  his  Tarnkappe  and  seized  the  Queen's  girdle  and  ring, 
which  he  bore  away.  In  the  deadly  rivalry  which  arose  be- 
tween Brunhild  and  Kriemhild  began  a  struggle  of  appalling 
fierceness  and  magnitude,  in  which  nations  were  destroyed. 

II  \i;i:n",  the  uncle  of  King  Gunther,  was  the  minister  of 
Brunhild's  vengeance.  Gaining  the  confidence  of  Kriem- 
hild, he  learned  from  her  the  secret  of  Siegfried's  vulner- 
ability. He  induced  the  hero  to  run  a  race  with  him  to  a 
spring  of  water,  where,  stepping  behind  him,  the  treacherous 
prince  dealt  Siegfried  a  fatal  blow.  When  Kriemhild  had 
her  hoard  of  treasure  removed  from  the  Nibelungenland  to 
Worms  (where  she  resided  after  Siegfried's  death),  Hagen, 
by  his  wiles,  secured  the  keys  of  her  treasury,  obtained  the 
gold,  and  sunk  it  in  a  secret  place  in  the  Rhine  River. 

While  Hagen  opposed  the  marriage  of  Kriemhild  to  King 
Etzel,  he  was  led  to  approve  the  friendly  expedition  of  the 
Burgundians  into  the  country  of  the  Huns,  whither  King 
Gunther  and  his  courl  had  been  invited  to  visit    Kriemhild. 


196  GERMAN  FOLK- LOBE. 

On  his  way  he  was  warned  by  the  prophecy  of  a  nymph  that 
all  the  members  of  the  expedition  should  be  destroyed  and 
never  return,  save  only  the  chaplain  of  the  king.  Hagen,  in 
his  wrath,  hurled  the  priest  from  the  boat  when  they  were 
crossing  a  river.  However,  the  chaplain  swam  to  the  shore. 
Hagen  was  slain  at  length  by  Kriemhild,  who  wielded  in  her 
own  hand  the  sword  Balmung. 

The  Margkave  Budiger  was  a  high-minded  noble, 
who  was  oppressed  with  a  sense  of  divided  loyalty  and  duty. 
The  representative  of  King  Etzel  in  the  wooing  of  Kriem- 
hild, he  swore  to  take  vengeance  upon  any  one  who  should 
do  her  wrong.  As  a  host  who  entertained  the  Burgundian 
knights  invited  to  visit  him,  the  sacred  obligations  of  hos- 
pitality weighed  heavily  upon  him.  He  fought  reluctantly 
for  his  queen,  and  was  slain,'  praised  and  lamented  by  even 
his  foes. 

In  the  cycle  of  northern  Germany  the  hero  is  not  Sieg- 
fried, but  Sigurd  the  Volsung.  His  father  is  Sigmund, 
King  of  Frankenland,  and  his  mother  Hiordis.  He  is  born 
in  the  country  of  the  Danes,  after  the  murder  of  his  father. 
For  him  a  sword,  called  Gram  (wrath),  is  made  from  the 
shattered  fragments  of  his  father's  weapon,  by  Begin,  son  of 
Bodmar  (see  Hreidmar  and  the  Hoard,  in  Norse  mythol- 
ogy). Sigurd  slays  Fafnir  and  Begin  (brothers),  and  be- 
comes possessed  of  the  hoard  of  gold. 

He  rides  away  upon  his  horse  Grane,  Grani  (hairy),  or 
Greyfell,  carrying  the  treasure  with  him.  He  finds  Brynhild 
upon  the  high  mountain  of  Hindfell,  and  awakens  her  from 
an  enchanted  sleep.  He  visits  the  court  of  Giuki,  king  of  the 
Nibelungs,  and  is  given  a  magic  potion,  which  causes  him  to 
fall  in  love  with  Gudrun,  daughter  of  the  king.  Gunnar, 
a  brother  of  Gudrun,  goes  with  Sigurd  to  seek  Brynhikl,  who 
is  in  her  deep  sleep  upon  the  mountain,  in  a  retreat  sur- 
rounded by  a  wall  of  flame,  as  a  punishment  for  her  dis- 
obedience of  a  divine  command.     Gunnar  fails  to  pass  the 


GERMAN  FOLK-LORE.  197 

flames,  but  Sigurd  succeeds,  and  appears  to  the  awakened 
maiden  as  Gunnar,  to  whom  Brynhild  is  subsequently  mar- 
ried. 

A  strife  of  jealousy  arises  between  Gudrun  and  the  de- 
ceived Brynhild,  and  Guthorm,  a  brother  of  the  former, 
is  persuaded  to  murder  Sigurd,  and  is  slain  by  his  dying 
victim. 

Brynhild  commits  suicide.  The  widowed  Gudrun  marries 
Atli,  King  of  the  Huns,  who  is  a  brother  of  Brynhild.  Gun- 
nar  and  Hogni  (brothers)  visit  the  court  of  Atli,  on  invitation, 
and  their  host  demands  of  them  the  hoard,  which  belongs  of 
right  to  his  wife.  This  is  refused.  Hogni  is  slain,  and  Gun- 
nar  is  imprisoned  in  a  den  of  serpents,  where  he  is  stung  to 
death  by  an  adder.  The  wretched  Gudrun  is  consumed  by 
the  passion  of  hate,  and  kills  her  husband  and  her  sons, 
burns  the  royal  hall,  and  leaps  into  the  sea. 

It  will  be  seen  that  t'ne  myths  of  north  and  south  Ger- 
many are  essentially  the  same,  with  local  variations  of  detail. 
Both  relate  to  the  Nibelungen-land  (Nillheim  of  the  Norse 
— cloudy  or  misty  land),  which  gives  the  name  to  the  M- 
belungenlied.  Both  recount  a  fearful  tragedy  in  the  laud  of 
the  Huns.  The  student  of  history  is  by  this  reminded  of 
the  career  of  Attila,  "  The  Scourge  of  God."  Yet  the  history 
of  the  Huns  lias  little  in  common  with  the  mythological  nar- 
ratives. 

Max  Miiller  holds  that  Sigurd,  Siegfried,  and  Achilles, 
of  the  various  Aryan  mythologies,  signified  originally  the 
sun,  which  dies  in  glory  at  the  close  of  the  day.  Anderson 
insists  upon  a  higher  symbolism  than  this,  the  representation 
of  the  heavenly  illuminations  of  the  soul,  the  light  of  inno- 
cence, piety,  and  love. 

Among  the  later  myths  of  Germany  is  The  Ki;l-Kixg, 
a  goblin  said  to  haunl  the  Black  Forest  in  Thuringia.  It  is 
feared  especially  by  children.  It  was  introduced  into  (!crman 
poetry  and  folk-lore  from  the  sagas  of  the  North,  through  a 


198  GERMAN  FOLK-LORE. 

German  translation  of  an  old  Danish  ballad,  and  is  popu- 
larly known  in  many  lands  through  Goethe's  ballad,  Der 
Erl-Konig. 

Kemarkable  in  its  vitality,  and  in  the  circumstantiality  of 
its  details,  is  the  German  legend  of  The  Pied  Pipee  of 
Hamkln  (or  Hamelin),  a  magical  piper  who  led  into  the 
river  Weser,  by  the  charm  of  his  music,  all  the  rats  which 
infested  the  city ;  and  then,  in  anger  at  the  refusal  of  the 
town  corporation  to  remunerate  him  adequately,  led  away, 
by  the  same  magic  spell,  the  children  of  the  city,  who  dis- 
appeared with  him  in  the  side  of  the  hill.  Even  the  exact 
date  of  the  event  is  given  (though  variously — June  26,  1284, 
and  July  22,  1376),  and  the  house  of  the  rat-catcher  is  still 
pointed  out  in  the  city. 

It  has  been  said  that  many  of  the  children  were  decoyed 
away  from  the  city  in  an  old  war,  were  carried  away  captive, 
and  never  returned ;  and  since  the  German  word  to  decoy 
means  also  to  pipe,  and  great  mystery  has  always  enshrouded 
the  "  exodus,"  the  growth  of  the  legend  may  be  thus  ex- 
plained.    To  this  we  may  owe  the  adage,  "  Pay  the  piper." 

The  legend  of  Loreley  is  an  ancient  and  widely  known 
tradition  of  the  Rhine  River. 

Lore  was  a  water  nymph,  who  sat  upon  a  high  bluff 
known  as  the  Ley,  or  Lei,  above  the  river,  and  by  her  magical 
singing  so  captivated  the  sailors  that  they  failed  to  note  the 
rapids  below  until  they  were  hurled  to  destruction. 

NOTES    OF    LITERATURE    RELATING    TO    GERMAN    FOLK-LORE. 

The  NibelungenJied  was  brought  to  light  in  1757,  by  Prof.  Bodmer, 
a  Swiss  scholar  and  critic,  who  procured  the  manuscript  from  an  old 
monastic  library.  It  appears  to  have  passed  from  view  three  centuries 
before,  when  it  was  probably  cast  aside  as  a  worthless  collection  of 
childish  fables.  Its  later  publication  attracted  the  attention  of  scholars 
throughout  the  world.  A  search  was  made  among  old  libraries,  and 
more  than  two  dozen  copies  of  the  poetic  cycle  were  discovered,  that  of 
Lassburg  being  deemed  the  most  valuable.  With  the  development  of 
higher  criticism  the  value  of  such  legacies  of  the  past  has  greatly  appre- 


NOTES  OF  LITERATURE.  199 

ciated.  Seldom  has  the  imagination  of  man  conceived  of  tragedies  so 
sublime  as  those  recounted  in  the  Nibelungenlied ;  and  underlying  all 
is  a  moral  which  he  that  runs  may  read— the  curse  of  ill-gotten  gold, 
the  culmination  of  a  career  of  crime.  "  The  keynote  of  the  whole  poem 
of  the  Nibelunge,"  says  Max  Miiller,  "  as  it  was  written  down  at  the  end 
of  the  twelfth  or  the  beginning  of  the  thirteenth  century,  is  sorrow  after 
joy.  This  is  the  fatal  spell  against  which  all  heroes  are  fighting,  and 
fighting  in  vain.  And  as  Hagen  dashes  the  chaplain  into  the  waves  in 
order  to  belie  the  prophecy  of  the  mermaids,  but  the  chaplain  rises  and 
Hagen  plunges  headlong  to  destruction,  so  Brunhild  is  bargaining  and 
playing  with  the  same  inevitable  fate." 

The  Nibelunffenlied  has  been  rendered  in  modern  German  by  vari- 
ous translators,  and  has  been  the  subject  of  criticism  by  Schlegel,  Tieck, 
and  the  Grimm  brothers,  Uhland.  Simrock,  and  other  German  scholars. 
Max  Miiller,  Thomas  Carlyle,  William  Jordan,  Prof.  Anderson,  and 
others  have  brought  it  to  the  attention  of  the  English-speaking  world. 

Wagner's  operas — The  Ring  of  the  Nihelungen,  The  Rhinegold,  The 
Valkyries,  The  Death  of  Siegfried,  and  The  Twilight  of  the  Gods — are 
based  upon  this  old  epic  and  the  Norse  cycle,  to  which  it  is  related. 

The  A ' ibelungenlied  has  been  illustrated  in  modern  painting.  The 
■walls  of  the  royal  palace  at  Munich  ait-  adorned  with  the  masterpieces 
of Sehnorr  von  Carolsfeld's  brush,  which  portray  the  strong  characters 
and  the  sublime  events  of  the  poem;  and  these,  with  many  other  paint- 
ings of  noted  artists  illustrating  the  same  themes,  are  reproduced  in 
popular  engravings. 

There  is  an  American  prose, translation  of  the  poem,  issued  within 
recent  years,  by  Auber  Forestier. 

The  north  German  version  of  the  story  of  the  Nibelungs,  which  is 
the  most  closely  allied  to  the  Norse  mythology,  has  been  rendered  into 
English  by  William  Morris,  the  English  poet,  in  a  poetic  cycle  entitled 
Sigurd  the  Volswng,  which  "bears  the  noblest  testimony  that  the  Teu- 
tonic forefathers,  the  Teutonic  myths  and  sagas,  are  ours  also  by  right  of 
our  Anglo-Saxon  descent  "  from  the  north  German  tribes. 

Wholly  disconnected  with  the  ancient  myths  of  Germany,  yet  highly 
important  in  its  relation  to  modern  letters  and  to  psychological  thought, 
is  the  story  of  De.  Faustus,  or  Faust,  a  German  magician,  a  contempo- 
rary of  Martin  Luther.  Somewhat  more  than  three  centuries  ago,  and 
half  a  century  after  the  death  of  the  magician,  a  Protestant  clergyman 

published  at  F  rankfort-on-t  he-Main  a  strange  and  mythical  account  of 
that  supposedly  supernatural  being.  Christopher  Marlowe,  the  English 
dramatist,  based  upon  this  singular  narrative  a  drama  of  moral  power, 
in  which  he  represents  Dr.  Faustus  as  a  sorcerer  who  traded  his  soul  to 


200  GERMAN  FOLK-LORE. 

Mephistopheles  (a  devil)  in  exchange  for  a  season  of  sensual  pleasure 
ami  worldly  power  and  pride. 

The  German  poet  Goethe  developed  upon  the  same  theme  his  Faust, 
one  of  the  literary  masterpieces  of  the  world.  Goethe's  Faust  is  a 
student  of  high  attainments,  whose  desire  for  intellectual  advancement 
beyond  Ids  reach  renders  him  a  prey  of  the  tempter,  and  who  bargains 
his  soul  to  the  Evil  One  for  the  temporary  gratification  of  his  desires, 
in  which  a  sensual  element  is  not  lacking. 

Mephistopheles,  in  Marlowe's  drama,  is  a  melancholic,  servile  at- 
tendant ;  in  Goethe's,  he  is  a  malignant,  inexorable,  but  cold  and  scoff- 
ing fiend,  possessed  of  hideous  mirth.  Carlyle  says  of  this  character: 
"  He  is  the  devil  not  of  superstition  but  of  knowledge.  Such  a  com- 
bination of  perfect  understanding  with  perfect  selfishness,  of  logical 
life  with  moral  death,  so  universal  a  denier  both  in  heart  and  head,  is 
undoubtedly  a  child  of  darkness,  an  emissary  of  the  primeval  Nothing, 
and  may  stand  in  his  merely  spiritual  deformity,  at  once  potent,  dan- 
gerous, and  contemptible,  as  the  best  and  only  genuine  Devil  of  these 
latter  times." 

Margaret  is  the  heroine  of  Goethe's  Faust,  and  is,  with  him,  an 
original  conception.  The  victim  of  the  fallen  Faust,  she  destroys  her 
infant,  is  condemned  to  death,  and  becomes  insane.  It  has  been  aptly 
said  of  her:  "She  is  a  perfect  union  of  homely  nature  and  poetic 
beauty.  She  says  not  a  word  that  might  not  have  been  uttered  by  any 
girl  of  her  class  in  any  town  of  Germany,  and  yet,  such  is  the  exquisite 
art  of  the  author,  she  acquires  in  our  estimation  an  ideal  import,  and 
registers  herself  in  the  memory  as  one  of  the  most  remarkable  portraits 
in  the  rich,  wide  gallery  of  dramatic  art." 

Goethe's  Faust  was  first  published  in  1801,  having  been  many  years 
in  preparation.  In  its  final  scene  Faust  is  carried  away  to  his  doom  by 
the  adversary  of  human  souls.  In  1831  a  Second  Part  of  the  drama  was 
published.  In  this  the  soul  of  Faust  is  saved.  It  will  be  seen  that  the 
greatest  liberties  have  been  taken  with  the  original  legend.  Faust  has 
been  represented  as  traveling  in  France  and  in  Hungary,  and  this  for 
the  sole  purpose  of  associating  with  the  legend  French  and  Hungarian 
airs. 

The  only  noteworthy  musical  compositions  on  this  theme  are  by 
Frenchmen,  Gounod  and  Berlioz,  who  are  singularly  opposite  in  senti- 
ment and  in  temperament.  C.  F.  Gounod,  a  Parisian,  educated  for  the 
priesthood,  and  bringing  to  his  musical  art  all  the  native  and  ac- 
quired earnestness  of  his  mind,  reached  the  zenith  of  his  fame  when  (in 
1859)  he  produced  his  Opera  of  Faust,  set  to  words  of  Bribier  and  Cane, 
after  Goethe.  This  work  still  retains  a  foremost  place  in  popular  and 
critical  favor.     Hector  Berlioz,  of  Grenoble,  produced  more  recently  a 


NOTES  OF  LITERATURE.  201 

work  characteristic  of  its  author  and  his  school,  entitled  The  Damna- 
tion of  Faust. 

In  Gounod's  opera  the  treatment  of  the  principal  subject  is  in  keep- 
ing with  the  mind  of  the  composer,  essentially  reverent  and  religious. 
Frivolous  in  some  parts,  but  not  unhappily  so — as,  for  example,  in  the 
Kermess  (market)  scene — the  work  is  remarkably  coherent  in  tone  with 
the  central  idea  of  man  as  a  tool  of  the  principle  of  evil. 

Berlioz,  in  his  composition,  fails  to  represent  any  mode  of  life  that 
is  not  more  or  less  vicious.  His  contempt  for  recognized  laws  of  mu- 
sical and  dramatic  composition  permits  him  to  send  his  hero  tramping 
over  the  continent  of  Europe,  in  order  that  Berlioz  may  interject  a 
picture  of  the  country  revels  of  some  French  peasantry  ;  and  the  Doctor 
is  accompanied  by  his  demoniac  accomplice  to  the  Danubian  hills,  in 
order  that  he  may  witness  the  tramp  of  a  battalion  to  the  strains  of  a 
Hungarian  march.  The  closing  picture  of  Berlioz's  great  work  repre- 
sents Faust's  terrible  ride  to  Perdition,  in  company  with  his  infernal 
pander,  and  his  final  precipitation  into  the  eternal  abyss.  The  Chorus 
of  Devils  has  been  described  as  '"surcharged  with  bloodthirsty,  deliri- 
ous passion." 

The  legend  of  Loreley  is  the  subject  of  a  popular  ballad  by  the  Ger- 
man poei  Eeinrich  Eeine,  which  has  been  a  special  favorite  in  Germany 
for  half  a  century,  and  has  been  sung  throughout  the  world.  Of  this 
there  arc  various  clever  renderings  in  English. 

Robert  Browning  is  the  author  of  a  poem  which  recounts  the  ex- 
ploits of  The  Pied  Piper  of  Hamelin—the  rat-catcher  of  German 
legend. 

Ifallam  Tennyson,  son  of  the  late  laureate,  has  rendered  in  Eng- 
lish blank  verse  the  familiar  nursery  legend  of  Jack  tint/  lite  Beanstalk, 
which  is  commonly  supposed  to  have  originated  among  the  Germans. 


202  GERMAN  FOLK-LORE. 


THE   STORY   OF   SIGURD  THE   VOLSUNG. 

BY    WILLIAM    MORRIS. 

Book  III. — Brynhild. 

Sigurd  rideth  with  the  Nibhings,  and  wooeth  Brynhild  for 
King  Gunnar. 

Now  it  fell  on  a  day  of  the  spring-tide  that  followed  on  these 

things, 
That  Sigurd  fares  to  the  meadows  with  Gunnar  and  Hogni 

the  Kings; 
For  afar  is  Guttorm  the  youngest,  and  he  sails  the  Eastern 

Seas, 
And  fares  with  war-shield  hoisted  to  win  him  fame's  increase. 
So  come  the  Kings  to  the  Doom-ring,  and  the  people's  Hal- 
lowed Field, 
And  no  dwelling  of  man  is  anigh  it,  and  no  acre  forced  to 

yield : 
There  stay  those  Kings  of  the  people  alone  in  weed  of  war, 
And  they  cut  a  strip  of  the  greensward  on  the  meadow's 

daisied  floor, 
And  loosen  it  clean  in  the  midst,  while  its  ends  in  the  earth 

abide ; 
Then  they  heave  its  midmost  aloft,  and  set  on  either  side 
An  ancient  spear  of  battle  writ  round  with  words  of  worth ; 
And  these  are  the  posts  of  the  door,  whose  threshold  is  of  the 

earth, 
And  the  skin  of  the  earth  is  its  lintel :  but  with  war-glaives 

gleaming  bare 
The  Niblung  Kings  and  Sigurd  beneath  the  earth-yoke  fare ; 
Then  each  an  arm-vein  openeth,  and  their  blended  blood 

falls  down 
On  Earth  the  fruitful  Mother  where  they  rent  her  turfy 

gown : 


STORY  OF  SIGURD   THE  VOLSUNG.      203 

And  then,  when  the  blood  of  the  Volsungs  hath  run  with 

the  Xiblung  blood, 
They  kneel  with  their  hands  upon  it  and  swear  the  brother- 
hood : 
Each  man  at  his  brother's  bidding  to  come  with  the  blade  in 

his  hand, 
Though  the  fire  and  the  flood  should  sunder,  and  the  very 

gods  withstand : 
Each  man  to  love  and  cherish  his  brother's  hope  and  will ; 
Each  man  to  avenge  his  brother  when  the  Norns  his  fate 

fulfill : 
And  now  are  they  foster-brethren,  and  in  such  wise  have 

they  sworn 
As  the  God-born  Goths  of  aforetime,  when  the  world  was 

newly  born. 
But  among  the  folk  of  the  Niblungs  goes  forth  the  tale  of 

the  same, 
And  men  deem  the  tidings  a  glory  and  the  garland  of  their 

fame. 

So  is  Sigurd  yet  with  the  Niblungs,  and  he  loveth  Gudrun 

his  wife, 
And  wendeth  afield  with'  the  brethren  to  the  days  of  the 

dooming  of  life ; 
And  naught  his  glory  waneth,  nor  falleth  the  flood  of  praise: 
To  every  man  he  bearkeneth,  nor  gainsayeth  any  grace, 
And  glad  is  the  poor  in  the  Doom-ring  when  he  seeth  his 

face  mid  the  Kings, 
For  the  tangle  straighteneth  before  him,  and  the  maze  of 

crooked  tilings. 
But  the  smile  is  departed  from  him,  and  the  laugh  of  Sigurd 

the  young, 
And  of  few  words  now  is  he  waxen,  and  his  songs  are  seldom 

sung. 
Ilowbeit  of  all  the  sad-faced  was  Sigurd  loved  the  best; 
And  men  say  :  Is  the  king's  heart  mighty  beyond  all  hope  of 

rest? 


204  GERMAN  FOLK-LORE. 

Lo,  how  lie  bearetli  the  people !  how  heavy  their  woes  are 

grown ! 
So  oft  were  a  God  mid  the  Goth-folk,  if  he  dwelt  in  the 

world  alone. 

Now  Giuki  the  King  of  the  Niblungs  must  change  his  life 

at  the  last, 
And  they  lay  him  down  in  the  mountains  and  a  great  mound 

over  him  cast: 
For  thus  had  he  said  in  his  life-days  :  "  When  my  hand  from 

the  people  shall  fade, 
Up  there  on  the  side  of  the  mountains  shall  the  King  of  the 

Niblungs  be  laid, 
Whence  one  seeth  the  plain  of  the  tillage  and  the  fields 

where  man-folk  go ; 
Then  whiles  in  the  dawn's  awakening,  when  the  day-wind 

riseth  to  blow, 
Shall  I  see  the  war-gates  opening,  and  the  joy  of  my  shielded 

men 
As  they  look  to  the  field  of  the  dooming :  and  whiles  in  the 

even  again 
Shall  I  see  the  spoil  come  homeward,  and  the  host  of  the 

Niblungs  pour 
Through  the  gates  that  the  Dwarf- folk  builded  and  the  well- 
beloved  door." 

So  there  lieth  Giuki  the  King,  mid  steel  and  the  glimmer  of 

gold, 
As  the  sound  of  the  feastful  Niblungs  round  his  misty  house 

is  rolled  : 
But  Gunnar  is  King  of  the  people,  and  the  chief  of  the 

Niblung  land  ; 
A  man  beloved  for  his  mercy,  and  his  might  and  his  open 

hand ; 
A  glorious  king  in  the  battle,  a  hearkener  at  the  doom, 
A  singer  to  sing  the  sun  up  from  the  heart  of  the  midnight 

gloom. 


STORY  OF  SIGURD   THE  VOLSLWG.      205 

On  a  clay  sit  the  Kings  in  the  high-seat  when  Grimhild 

saith  to  her  son  : 
"  0  Gunnar,  King  beloved,  a  fair  life  hast  thou  won  ; 
On  the  flood,  in  the  field  hast  thou  wrought,  and  hung  the 

chambers  with  gold  ; 
Far  abroad  mid  many  a  people  are  the  tidings  of  thee  told  : 
Now  do  a  deed  for  thy  mother  and  the  hallowed  Niblung 

hearth, 
Lest  the  house  of  the  mighty  perish,  and  our  tale  grow  wan 

with  dearth. 
If  thou  do  the  deed  that  I  bid  thee,  and  wed  a  wife  of  the 

Kings, 
No   less   shalt   thou  cleave  the  war-helms  and  scatter  the 

ruddy  rings." 

He  said,  "  Meseemeth,  mother,  thou  speakest  not  in  haste, 
But  hast  sought  and  found  beforehand,  lest  thy  fair  words 
fall  to  waste." 

She  said  :  "  Thou  sayest  the  sooth  ;  I  have  found  the  thing 

I  sought : 
A  .Maid  for  thee  is  shapen,  and  a  Queen  for  thee  is  wrought : 
In  the  waste  land  hard  by  Lymdale  a  marvelous  hall  is  built, 
With   its  roof   of   the  red  gold  beaten,  and   its  wall  stones 

over-gilt : 
Afar  o'er  the  heath  men  see  it,  but  no  man  draweth  nigher, 
For  the  garth  that  goeth  about   it  is  naught  but  the  roaring 

fire, 
A  white   wall    waving  aloft ;  and   no    window  nor   wicket  is 

there*, 
Whereby  the  shielded  earl-folk  or  the  sons  of  the  merchants 

may  fare  : 
But  few  things  from  me  arc  hidden,  and  I  know  in  that  hall 

of  gold 
Sits  Brynhild,  white  as  a  wild-swan  where  the  foam  less  seas 

are  rolled  ; 


206  GERMAN  FOLK-LORE. 

And  the  daughter  of  Kings  of  the  world,  and  the  sister  of 

Queens  is  she, 
And  wise,  and  Odin's  Chooser,  and  the  Breath  of  Victory  : 
But  for  this  cause  sitteth  she  thus  in  the  ring  of  the  Waver- 
ing Flame, 
That  no  son  of  the  Kings  will  she  wed  save  the  mightiest 

master  of  fame, 
And  the  man  who  knoweth  not  fear,  and  the  man  foredoomed 

of  fate 
To  ride  through  her  Wavering  Fire  to  the  door  of  her  golden 

gate : 
And  for  him   she   sitteth   and  waiteth,  and  him  shall  she 

cherish  and  love, 
Though  the  Kings  of  the  world  should  withstand  it,  and  the 

Gods  that  sit  above. 
Speak  thou,  0  mighty  Gunnar ! — nay  rather,  Sigurd  my  son, 
Say  who  but  the  lord  of  the  Niblungs  should  wed  with  this 

glorious  one  ?  " 

Long  Sigurd  gazeth  upon  her,  and  slow  he  sayeth  again  : 
"  I  know  thy  will,  my  mother ;  of  all  the  sons  of  men, 
Of  all  the  Kings  unwedded,  and  the  kindred  of  the  great, 
It  is  meet  that  my  brother  Gunnar  should  ride  to  her  golden 
gate." 

Then  laughed  Gunnar,  and  answered  :  "  May  a  king  of  the 

people  fear? 
May  a  king  of  the  harp  and  the  hall-glee  hold  such  a  maid 

but  dear?- 
Yet  naught  have  I  and  my  kindred  to  do  with  frfteful  deeds; 
Lo,  how  the  fair  earth  bloometh,  and  the  field  fulfilleth  our 

needs, 
And  our  swords  rust  not  in  our  scabbards,  and  our  steeds  bide 

not  in  the  stall, 
And  oft  are  the  shields  of  the  Niblungs  drawn  clanking  down 

from  the  wall ; 


STORY  OF  SIGURD   THE  VOLSUNG.      207 

And  I  sit  by  my  brother  Sigurd,  and  no  ill  there  is  in  our 

life, 
And  the  harp  and  the  sword  is  beside  me,  and  I  joy  in  the 

peace  and  the  strife. 
So  I  live,  till  at  last  in  the  sword-play  midst  the  uttermost 

longing  of  fame 
I  shall  change  my  life  and  be  merry,  and  leave  no  hated 

name. 
Yet  nevertheless,  my  mother,  since  the  word  hath  thus  gone 

forth, 
And  I  wot  of  thy  great  desire,  I  will  reach  at  this  garland  of 

worth ; 
And  I  bid  you,  Kings  and    Brethren,  with    the   wooer   of 

Queens  to  ride, 
That  ye  tell  of  the  thing  hereafter,  and  the  deeds  that  shall 

betide." 

'"It  were  well,  0  Son,"  said  Grimhild,  "in  such  fellowship 

to  fare ; 
But  not  to-day  nor  to-morrow  ;  the  hearts  of  the  Gods  would 

I  wear, 
And  know  of  the  will  of  the  Noras  ;  for  a  mighty  matter 

is  this, 
And    a  deed    all    lands   shall    tell   of,  and   the  hope  of  the 

Niblung  bliss." 

So  apart  for  long  dwelt  Grimhild,  and  mingled  the  might  of 
the  earth 

With  the  deeds  of  the  chilly  sea,  and  the  heart  of  the  cloud- 
land's  dearth  ; 

And  all  these  with  the  wine  she  mingled,  and  sore  guile  was 
set  therein, 

Blindness,  and  strong  compelling  for  such  as  dared  to  win  : 

And  she  gave  the  drink  to  her  sons;  and  withal  untoGunnar 
she  spake, 

And  told  him  tales  of  the  King-folk,  and  smote  desire  awake ; 


208  GEEMJJV  FOLK-LORE. 

Till  many  a  time  lie  bethinks  him  of  the  Maiden  sitting  alone, 
And  the  Queen  that  was  shapen  for  him  ;  till  a  dream  of  the 

night  is  she  grown, 
And  a  tale  of  the  day's  desire,  and  the  crown  of  all  his 

praise  : 
And  the  net  of  the  Norns  was  about  him,  and  the  snare  was 

spread  in  his  ways, 
And  his   mother's  will  was  spurring  adown  the  way  they 

would  ; 
For  she  was  the  wise  of  women  and  the  framer  of  evil  and 

good. 

In  the  May-morn  riseth  Gunnar  with  fair  face  and  gleam- 
ing eyes, 

And  he  calleth  on  Sigurd  his  brother,  and  he  calleth  on 
Hogni  the  wise  : 

"  To-day  shall  we  fare  to  the  wooing,  for  so  doth  our  mother 
bid; 

We  shall  go  to  gaze  on  marvels,  and  things  from  the  King- 
folk  hid." 

So  they  do  on  the  best  of  their  war- gear,  and  their  steeds  are 

dight  for  the  road, 
And  forth  to  the  sun  neigheth  Grey  fell  as  he  neighed  'neath 

the  Golden  Load  : 
But  or  ever  they  leap  to  the  saddle,  while  yet  in  the  door 

they  stand, 
Thereto  cometh  Grimhild  the  wise-wife,  and  on  each  head 

layeth  her  hand, 
As  she  saith  :  "  Be  mighty  and  wise,  as  the  kings  that  came 

before  ! 
For  they  knew  of  the  ways  of  the  Gods,  and  the  craft  of  the 

Gods  they  bore  : 
And  they  knew  how  the  shapes  of  man-folk  are  the  very 

images 
Of  the  hearts  that  abide  within  them,  and  they  knew  of  the 

shaping  of  these. 


STORY  OF  SIGURD   THE  VOLSUAG.      209 

Be  wise  and  mighty,  0  Kings,  and  look  in  mine  heart  and 

behold 
The  craft  that  prevaileth  o'er  semblance,  and  the  treasured 

wisdom  of  old ! 
I  hallow  you  thus  for  the  day,  and  I  hallow  you  thus  for 

the  night, 
And  I  hallow  you  thus  for  the  dawning  with  my  father's 

hidden  might. 
Go,  now,  for  ye  bear  my  will  while  I  sit  in  the  hall  and  spin  ; 
And  to-night  shall   be  the  weaving,  and  to-morn  the  web 

shall  ye  win." 

So  they  leap  to  the  saddles  aloft,  and  they  ride  and  speak 

no  word, 
But  the  hills  and  the  dales  are  awakened  by  the  clink  of  the 

sheathed  sword  : 
None  looks  in  the  face  of  the  other,  but  the  earth  and  the 

heavens  gaze, 
And  behold  those  kings  of  battle  ride  down  the  dusty  ways. 

So  they  come  to  the  Waste  of  Lymdale  when  the  afternoon 

is  begun, 
And  afar  they  see  the  flame-blink  on  the  gray  sky  under 

the  sun  : 
And  they  spur  and  speak  no  word,  and  no  man  to  his  fellow 

will  turn  ; 
But  they  see  the  hills  draw  upward  and  the  earth  beginning 

to  burn  : 
And  they  ride,  and  I  he  eve  is  coming,  and  the  sun  hangs  low 

o'er  the  earth, 
And  the  red   flame   roars  up  to   it  from  the  midst  of  the 

desert's  dearth. 
None  turns  or  speaks  to  his  brother,  but  the  Wrath  gleams 

bare  and  red, 
And  blood-red  is  the  Helm  of  Aweing  on  the  golden  Sigurd's 

head, 

FOLK-LORE    14 


2iO  GERMAN  FOLK-LORE. 

And  bare  is  the  blade  of  Gunnar,  and  the  first  of  the  three 

he  rides, 
And  the  wavering  wall  is  before  him  and  the  golden  snn  it 

hides. 

Then  the  heart  of  a  king's  son  failed  not,  bnt  he  tossed  his 

sword  on  high 
And  laughed  as  he  spurred  for  the  fire,  and  cried  the  Ni- 
bbing cry  ; 
But  the  mare's  son  saw  and  imagined,  and  the  battle-eager 

steed, 
That  so  oft  had  pierced  the  spear-hedge  and  never  failed 

at  need, 
Shrank  back,  and  shrieked  in  his  terror,  and  spite  of  spur 

and  rein 
Fled  fast  as  the  foals  unbitted  on  Odin's  pasturing  plain  ; 
Wide  then  he  wheeled  with  Gunnar,  but  with  hand  and  knee 

he  dealt, 
And  the  voice  of  a  lord  beloved,  till  the  steed  his  master  felt, 
And  bore  him  back  to  the  brethren  ;  by  Greyfell  Sigurd  stood, 
And  stared  at  the  heart  of  the  fire,  and  his  helm  was  red  as 

blood  : 
But  Hogni  sat  in  his  saddle,  and  watched  the  flames  up-roll ; 
And  he  said  :  "  Thy  steed  has  failed  thee  that  was  once  the 

noblest  foal 
In  the  pastures  of  King  Giuki ;  but  since  thine  heart  fails 

not, 
And  thou  wouldst  not  get  thee  backward  and  say,  '  The  fire 

was  hot, 
And  the  voices  pent  within  it  were  singing  naught  but  death,' 
Let  Sigurd  lend  thee  his  steed   that  wore   the    Glittering 

Heath, 
And  carried  the  Bed  of  the  Serpent,  and  the  ancient  ruddy 

rings. 
So  perchance  may  the  mocks  be  lesser  when  men  tell  of  the 

Niblung  Kings." 


STORY  OF  SIGURD   THE  YOLSTJNG.      211 

Then  Sigurd  looked  on  the  twain,  and  he  saw  their  swart 

hair  wave 
In  the  wind  of  the  waste  and  the  flame-blast,  and  no  answer 

awhile  he  gave. 
But  at  last  he  spake :  "  0  brother,  on  Greyfell  shalt  thou 

ride, 
And  do  on  the  Helm  of  Aweing  and  gird  the  Wrath  to  thy 

side, 
And  cover  thy  breast  with  the  war-coat  that  is  throughly 

woven  of  gold, 
That  hath  not  its  like  in  the  heavens  nor  has  earth  of  its 

fellow  told : 
For  this  is  the  raiment  of  Kings  when  they  ride  the  Flicker- 
ing Fire, 
And  so  sink  the  flames  before  them  and  the  might  of  their 

desire." 

Then   Hogni   laughed    in    his   heart,   and   he   said:   "This 

changing  were  well 
If  so  might  the  deed  be  accomplished ;  but  perchance  there 

is  more  to  tell  : 
Thou   shalt   take   the   war-steed,    Gunnar,   and   enough   or 

naught  it  shall  be  :  , 
But  the  coal-blue  gear  of  the  Niblungs  the  golden  hall  shall 

see." 

Then  Sigurd  looked  on  the  speaker,  as  one  who  would  answer 

again, 
But  his  words  died  out  on  the  waste  and  the  lire-blast  made 

them  vain. 
Then  he  casteth  the  reins  to  his  ln-othcr,  and  Grunnar  praiseth 

his  gift, 
And  springeth  aloft  to  the  saddle  as  the  fair  sun  fails  from 

the  lift  ; 
And  Sigurd  looks  on  the  burden  that  Greyfell  doth  uprear, 
The   huge    king   towering    upward    in    the    dusky  Niblung 

gear: 


212  GERMAN  FOLK-LORE. 

There  sits  the  eager  Gunnar,  and  his  heart  desires  the  deed, 
And  of  naught  he  recketh  and  thinketh,  but  a  fame-stirred 

warrior's  need ; 
But  Greyfell  trembleth  nothing  and  naught  of  the  fire  doth 

reck : 
Then  the  spurs  in  his  flank  are  smitten,  and  the  reins  lie 

loose  on  his  neck, 
And  the  sharp  cry  springe th  from  Gunnar — no  hand-breadth 

stirred  the  beast ; 
The  dusk  drew  on  and  over  and  the  light  of  the  fire  in- 
creased, 
And   still   as   a  shard  on  the  mountain  in  the  sandy  dale 

alone 
Was  the  shape  of  the  cloudy  Greyfell,  nor  moved  he  more 

than  the  stone ; 
But   right   through   the   heart  of   the  fire    forever    Sigurd 

stared, 
As  he  stood  in  the  gold  red-litten  with  the  Wrath's  thin 

edges  bared. 

No  word  for  a  while  spake  any,  till  Gunnar  leaped  to  the 

earth, 
And  the  anger  wrought  within  him,  and  the  fierce  words 

came  to  birth : 
"  Who  mocketh  the  King  of  the  ISTiblungs  in  the  desert  land 

forlorn  ? 
Is  it  thou,  0  Sigurd  the  Stranger  ?  is  it  thou,  0  younger- 
born  ? 
Dost  thou  laugh  in  the  hall,  0  Mother  ?  dost  thou  spin,  and 

laugh  at  the  tale 
That  has  drawn  thy  son  and  thine  eldest  to  the  sword  and 

the  blaze  of  the  bale  ? 
Or  thou,  0  God  of  the  Goths,  wilt  thou  hide  and  laugh  thy 

fill, 
While  the  hands  of  the  foster-brethren  the  blood  of  brothers 

spill  ?  " 


STORY  OF  SIGURD   THE  VOLSUJVG.      213 

But  the  awful  voice  of  Sigurd  across  the  wild  went  forth  : 
"  How  changed   are  the  words  of  Gunnar  !  where  wend  his 

ways  of  worth? 
I  mock  thee  not  in  the  desert,  as  I  mocked  thee  not  in  the 

mead , 
When  I  swore  beneath   the  turf -yoke  to  help  thy  fondest 

need  : 
Nay,  strengthen  thine  heart  for  the  work,  for  the  gift  that 

thy  manhood  awaits ; 
For  I  give  thee  a  gift,  0  Niblung,  that  shall  overload  the 

Fates, 
And  how  may  a  King  sustain  it?  but  forbear  with  the  dark 

to  strive ; 
For  thy  mother  spinneth  and  worketh,  and  her  craft  is  awake 

and  alive." 

Then  Ilogni  spake  from  the  saddle :  "  The  time,  and  the 

time  is  come 
To  gather  the  might  of  our  mother,  and  of  her  that  spinneth 

at  home. 
Forbear  all  words,  0  Gunnar,  and  anigh  to  Sigurd  stand, 
And  face  to  face  behold ,  him,  and  take  his  hand  in  thine 

hand  : 
Then  be  thy  will  as  his  will,  that  his  heart  may  mingle  with 

thine, 
And  the  love  that  he  sware  'neath  the  earth-yoke  with  thine 

hope  may  intertwine." 

Then  the  wrath  from  the  Niblung  slippeth  and   the  shame 

that  anger  hath  bred, 
And   the   heavy  wings  of  the  dreamtide  flit  over  Gunnar's 

head  : 
But  he  doth  by  his  brother's  bidding,  and  Sigurd's  hand  he 

takes, 
And  he  looks  in  the  eyes  of  the  Volsung,  though  scarce  in 

the  desert  he  wakes. 


214  GERMAN  FOLK-LORE. 

There  Hogui  sits  in  the  saddle  aloof  from  the  King's  desire, 
And  little  his  lips  are  moving,  as  he  stares  on  the  rolling  fire, 
And  mutters  the  spells  of  his  mother,  and  the  words  she  bade 

him  say  : 
But  the  craft  of  the  kings  of  aforetime  on  those  Kings  of  the 

battle  lay ; 
Dark  night  was  spread  behind  them,  and  the  fire  flared  up 

before, 
And  unheard  was  the  wind  of  the  wasteland  mid  the  white 

flame's  wavering  roar. 

Long  Sigurd  gazeth  on  Gunnar,  till  he  sees,  as  through  a 
cloud, 

The  long  black  locks  of  the  Niblung,  and  the  King's  face 
set  and  proud  : 

Then  the  face  is  alone  on  the  dark,  and  the  dusky  Niblung 
mail 

Is  naught  but  the  night  before  him :  then  whiles  will  the 
visage  fail, 

And  grow  again  as  he  gazeth,  black  hair  and  gleaming  eyes, 

And  fade  again  into  nothing,  as  for  more  of  vision  he  tries ; 

Then  all  is  naught  but  the  night,  yea,  the  waste  of  an  emptier 
thing, 

And  the  fire-wall  Sigurd  forgetteth,  nor  feeleth  the  hand  of 
the  King  : 

Nay,  what  is  it  now  he  remembereth  ?  it  is  naught  that  afore- 
time he  knew, 

And  no  world  is  there  left  him  to  live  in,  and  no  deed  to 
rejoice  in  or  rue ; 

But  frail  and  alone  he  fareth,  and  as  one  in  the  sphere- 
stream's  drift, 

By  the  starless  empty  places  that  lie  beyond  the  lift : 

Then  at  last  is  he  stayed  in  his  drifting,  and  he  saith,  It  is 
blind  and  dark ; 

Yet  he  feeleth  the  earth  at  his  feet,  and  there  cometh  a 
change  and  a  spark, 


STORY  OF  SIGURD   THE  VOLSUJVG.      215 

And  away  in  an  instant  of  time  is  the  mirk  of  the  dreamland 

rolled, 
And  there  is  the  firelit  midnight,  and  before  him  an  image 

of  gold, 
A  man  in  the  raiment  of  Gods,  nor  fashioned  worser  than 

they  : 
Full  sad  he  gazeth  on  Sigurd  from  the  great  wide  eyes  and 

gray  ; 
And  the  Helm  that  Aweth  the  people  is  set  on  the  golden 

hair, 
And  the  Mail  of  Gold  enwraps  him,  and  the  Wrath  in  his 

hand  is  bare. 

Then  Sigurd  looks  on  his  arm  and  his  hand  in  his  brother's 

hand, 
And  thereon  is  the  dark  gray  mail-gear  well  forged  in  the 

southern  land  ; 
Then  he  looks  on  the  sword  that  he  beareth,  and,  lo,  the 

eager  blade 
That  leaps  in  the  hand  of  Gunnar  when  the  kings  are  waxen 

afraid  ; 
And  he  turns  his  face  o'er  his  shoulder,  and  the  raven-locks 

hang  down 
From  the  dark-blue  helm  of  the  Dwarf-folk,  and   the  rings 

of  the  Niblung  crown. 

Then  a  red  flush  riseth  against   him   in  the  face  ne'er  seen 

before, 
Save  dimly  in  the  mirror  or  the  burnished  targe  of  war, 
And   the  foster-brethren  sunder,  and   the  clasped  hands  fall 

apart; 
But  a  change  cometh  over  Sigurd,  and  the  fierce  pride  leapa 

in  his  heart ; 
He  knoweth  t  be  soul  of  Gunnar,  and  the  Bhaping  of  his  mind  ; 
He  seekcth  the  words  of  Sigurd,  and  Gunnar's  voice  doth  he 

find. 


216  GERMAN  FOLK-LORE. 

As  he  cries :  "  I  know  thy  bidding ;  let  the  world  be  lief  or 

loath, 
The  child  is  unborn  that  shall  hearken  how  Sigurd  rued  his 

oath  ! 
Well  fare  thou,  brother  Gunnar  !  what  deed  shall  I  do  this 

eve, 
That  I  shall  never  repent  of,  that  thine  heart  shall  never 

grieve  ? 
What  deed  shall  I  do  this  even  that  none  else  may  bring  to 

the  birth, 
Nay,  not  the  King  of  the  Niblungs,  and  the  lord  of  the  best 

of  the  earth  ?  " 

The  flames  rolled  up  to  the  heavens,  and  the  stars  behind 

were  bright, 
Dark  Hogni  sat  on  his  war-steed,  and  stared  out  into  the 

night, 
And  there  stood  Gunnar  the  King  in  Sigurd's  semblance 

wrapped, 
— As  Sigurd  walking  in  slumber,  for  in   Grimhild's  guile 

was  he  lapped, 
That  his  heart  forgat  his  glory,  and  the  ways  of  Odin's  lords, 
And  the  thought  was  frozen  within  him,  and  the  might  of 

spoken  words. 

But  Sigurd  leapeth  on  Greyfell,  and  the  sword  in  his  hand 

is  bare, 
And  the  gold  spurs  flame  on  his  heels,  and  the  fire-blast 

lifteth  his  hair ; 
Forth  Greyfell  bounds  rejoicing,  and  they  see  the  gray  wax 

red, 
As  unheard  the  war-gear  clasheth,  and  the  flames  meet  over 

his  head, 
Yet  a  while  they  see  him  riding,  as  through  the  rye  men  ride, 
When  the  word  goes  forth  in  the  summer  of  the  kings  by 

the  ocean-side ; 


STORY  OF  SIGURD   THE  VOLSUjYG.      217 

But  the  fires  were  slaked  before  him  and  the  wild-fire  burned 

no  more 
Than  the  ford  of  the  summer  waters  when  the  rainy  time  is 

o'er. 

Not  once  turned  Sigurd  aback,  nor  looked  o'er  the  ashy  ring, 
To  the  midnight  wilderness  drear  and  the  spell-drenched 

Niblung  King : 
But  he  stayed  and  looked  before  him,  and  lo,  a  house  high- 
built, 
With  its  roof  of  the  red  gold  beaten,  and  its  wall-stones  over- 

gilt: 
So  he  leapt  adown  from  Grey  fell,  and  came  to  that  fair  abode, 
And  dark  in  the  gear  of  the  Niblungs  through  the  gleaming 

door  he  strode : 
All  light  within  was  that   dwelling,  and   a  marvelous   hall 

it  was, 
But  of  gold  were  its  hangings  woven,  and  its  pillars  gleam- 
ing as  glass, 
And  Sigurd  said  in  his  heart,  it  was  wrought  erewhile  for  a 

God  : 
But  he  looked  athwart  and  endlong  as  alone  its  floor  he  trod, 
And  lo,  on  the  height  of  the  da'is  is  upreared  a  graven  throne, 
And  thereon  a  woman  sitting  in  the  golden  place  alone; 
Her  face  is  fair  and  awful,  and   a  gold   crown  girdcth   her 

head  ; 
And  a  sword  of  the  kings  she  beareth,  and  her  sun-bright 

hair  is  shed 
O'er  the  laps  of  the  snow-white  linen  that  ripples  adown  to 

her  feet : 
As  a  swan  on  the  billow  unbroken  ere  the  firth  and  the  ocean 

meet, 
On  the  dark-blue  cloths  she  sitteth,  in  the  height  of  the 

golden  place, 
Nor  breaketh  the  hush  of  the  hall,  though  her  eyes  be  set  on 

his  face. 


218  GERMAN  FOLK-LORE. 

Now  he  sees  this  is  even  the  woman  of  whom  the  tale  hath 
been  told, 

E'en  she  that  was  wrought  for  the  Niblungs,  the  bride  or- 
dained from  of  old, 

And  hushed  in  the  hall  he  standeth,  and  a  long  while  looks 
in  her  eyes, 

And  the  word  he  hath  shapen  for  Gunnar  to  his  lips  may 
never  arise. 

The  man  in  Gunnar's  semblance  looked  long  and  knew  no 

deed  ; 
And  she  looked,  and  her  eyes  were  dreadful,  and  none  would 

help  her  need. 
Then  the  image  of  Gunnar  trembled,  and  the  flesh  of  the 

War-King  shrank; 
For  he  heard  her  voice  on  the  silence,  and  his  heart  of  her 

anguish  drank : 

"  King,  King,  who  art  thou  that  comest,  thou  lord  of  the 

cloudy  gear? 
What  deed   for   the  weary-hearted  shall  thy  strange  hands 

fashion  here?" 

The  speech  of  her  lips  pierced  through  him  like  the  point  of 

the  bitter  sword, 
And  he  deemed  that  death  were  better  than  another  spoken 

word : 
But  he  clencheth  .his  hand  on  the  war-blade,  and  setteth  his 

face  as  the  brass, 
And  the  voice  of  his  brother  Gunnar  from  out  his  lips  doth 

pass : 
"  When  thou  lookest  on  me,  0  Goddess,  thou  seest  Gunnar 

the  King, 
The  King  and  the  lord  of  the  Niblungs,  and  the  chief  of 

their  warfaring. 


STORY  OF  SIGURD   THE  VOLSUNG.      219 

But  art  thou  indeed  that  Brynhild  of  whom  is  the  rumor 

and  fame, 
That  she  bideth  the  coming  of  kings  to  ride  her  Wavering 

Flame, 
Lest  she  wed  the  little-hearted, and  the  world  grow  evil  and  vile? 
For  if  thou  be  none  other  I  will  speak  again  in  a  while." 

She  said  :  "  Art  thou  Gunnar  the  Stranger  ?     0  art  thou  the 

man  that  I  see  ? 
Yea,  verily  I  am  Brynhild  :  what  other  is  like  unto  me? 
0  men  of  the  Earth  behold  me !  hast  thou  seen,  0  laboring 

Earth, 
Such  sorrow  as  my  sorrow,  or  such  evil  as  my  birth?" 

Then  spake  the  Wildfire's  Trampler  that  Gunnar's  image  bore  : 
"  0  Brynhild,  mighty  of  women,  be  thou  glorious  evermore ! 
Thou  seest  Gunnar  the  Niblung,  as  he  sits  mid  the  Nibbing 

lords, 
And  rides  with  the  gods  of  battle  in  the  forefront  of   the 

swords. 
Now  therefore  awaken   to  life!  for  this  eve  have   I  ridden 

thy  Fire, 
When  but  few  of  the  kings  would  outface  it,  to  fulfill  thine 

heart's  desire. 
And  such  love  is  the  love  of  the  kings,  and  such  token  have 

women  to  know 
That  they  wed  with  God's  beloved,  and  that  fair  from  their 

bed  shall  outgrow 
The  stem  of  the  world's  desire,  and  the  tree  that  shall  not  be 

abased, 
Till  the  day  of  the  uttermost  trial   when  the  war-shield  of 

Odin  is  raised. 
So  my  word  is  the  word  of  wooing,  and  I  bid  thee  remember 

thine  oath, 
That  here  in  this  hall   hiir-hnilded  we  twain  may  plight  the 

troth  ;  • 


220  GERMAN  FOLK-LORE. 

That  here  in  the  hall  of  thy  waiting  thou  be  made  a  wedded 

wife, 
And  be  called  the  Queen  of  the  Niblungs,  and  awaken  unto 

life." 

Hard  rang  his  voice  in  the  hall,  and  awhile  she  spake  no  word, 
And  there  stood  the  Image  of  Gunnar,  and  leaned  on  his 

bright  blue  sword  : 
But  at  last  she  cried  from  the  high-seat :  "  If  I  yet  am  alive 

and  awake, 
I  know  no  words  for  the  speaking,  nor  what  answer  I  may 

make." 

She  ceased,  and  he  answered  nothing;  and  a  hush  on  the  hall 
there  lay, 

And  the  moon  slipped  over  the  windows  as  he  clomb  the 
heavenly  way  ; 

And  no  whit  stirred  the  raiment  of  Brynhild :  till  she  heark- 
ened the  Wooer's  voice, 

As  he  said  :  "  Thou  art  none  of  the  women  that  swear  and 
forswear  and  rejoice, 

Forgetting  the  sorrow  of  kings  and  the  Gods  and  the  labor- 
ing earth. 

Thou  shalt  wed  with  King  Gunnar  the  Niblung  and  increase 
his  worth  with  thy  worth." 

And  again  was  there  silence  a  while,  and  the  War-King  leaned 

on  his  sword 
In  the  shape  of  his  foster-brother ;  then  Brynhild  took  up 

the  word  : 
"  Hail,  Gunnar,  King  of  the  Niblungs  !  to-night  shalt  thou 

lie  by  my  side, 
For  thou  art  the  Gods'  beloved,  and  for  thee  was  I  shapen  a 

bride  : 
For  thee,  for  the  King,  have  I  waited,  and  the  waiting  now 

is  done ; 
I  shall  bear  Earth's  kings  on  my  bosom  and  nourish  the 

Niblung's  son. 


STORY  OF  SIGURD   THE   VOLSUjYG.      221 

Though  women  swear  and  forswear,  and  are  glad  no  less  in 

their  life, 
To-night  shall  I  wed  with  the  King-folk  and  be  called  King 

Grunnar's  wife. 
Come,  Gunnar,  Lord  of  the  Niblungs,  and  sit  in  my  fathers' 

seat ! 
For  for  thee  alone  was  it  shapen,  and  the  deed  is  due  and 

meet." 

Up  she  rose  exceeding  glorious,  and  it  was  as  when  in  May 
The  blossomed  hawthorn  stirreth  with  the  dawning-wind  of 

day; 
But  the  Wooer  moved  to  meet  her,  and  amid  the  golden 

place 
They  met,  and  their  garments  mingled,  and  face  was  close  to 

face  ; 
And  they  turned  again  to  the  high-seat,  and  their  very  right 

hands  met, 
And  King  Gunnar's  bodily  semblance  beside  her  Brynhild  set. 

But  over  his  knees  and  the  mail-rings  the  high  King  laid  his 

sword, 
And  looked  in  the  face  of  Brynhild  and  swore  King  Gunnar's 

word  : 
He  swore  on  the  hand  of  Brynhild  to  be  true  to  his  wedded 

wife, 
And  before  all  things  to  love  her  till  all  folk  should  praise 

her  life. 
Unmoved  did    Brynhild    hearken,  and   in   steady  voice  she 

swore 
To  be  true  to  Gunnar  the  Niblung  while  her  life-days  should 

endure  ; 
So  she  swore  on  the  hand  of  the  Wooer:  and  they  two  were 

nil  alone, 
And  they  sat  a  while  in  the  high-seat  when  the  wedding-troth 

was  done, 


222  GERMAN  FOLK-LORE. 

But  no  while  looked  each  on  the  other,  and  hand  fell  down 

from  hand, 
And  no  speech  there  was  betwixt  them  that  their  hearts  might 

understand. 

At  last  spake  the  all-wise  Brynhild :  "  Now  night  is  begin- 
ning to  fade, 

Fair-hung  is  the  chamber  of  Kings,  and  the  bridal  bed  is 
arrayed." 

He  rose  and  looked  upon  her :  as  the  moon  at  her  utmost 
height, 

So  pale  was  the  visage  of  Brynhild,  and  her  eyes  as  cold  and 
bright : 

Yet  he  stayed,  nor  stirred  from  the  high-seat,  but  strove  with 
the  words  for  a  space, 

Till  she  took  the  hand  of  the  King  and  led  him  down  from 
his  place, 

And  forth  from  the  hall  she  led  him  to  the  chamber  wrought 
for  her  love  ; 

The  fairest  chamber  of  earth,  gold-wrought  below  and  above, 

And  hung  were  the  walls  fair-builded  with  the  Gods  and  the 
kings  of  the  earth, 

And  the  deeds  that  were  done  aforetime,  and  the  coming 
deeds  of  worth. 

There  they  went  in  one  bed  together  ;  but  the  foster-brother 
laid 

'Twixt  him  and  the  body  of  Brynhild  his  bright  blue  battle- 
blade, 

And  she  looked  and  heeded  it  nothing  ;  but  e'en  as  the  dead 
folk  lie, 

With  folded  hands  she  lay  there,  and  let  the  night  go  by : 

And  as  still  lay  that  Image  of  Gunnar  as  the  dead  of  life  for- 
lorn, 

And  hand  on  hand  he  folded  as  he  waited  for  the  morn. 

So  oft  in  the  moonlit  minster  your  fathers  may  ye  see 

By  the  side  of  the  ancient  mothers  await  the  day  to  be. 


STORY  OF  SIGURD   THE  VOLSUNG.      223 

Thus  they  lay  as  brother  by  sister — and  e'en  such  had  they 

been  to  behold, 
Had  he  borne  the  Volsung's  semblance  and  the  shape  she 

knew  of  old. 

Night  hushed  as  the  moon  fell  downward,  and  there  came 

the  leaden  sleep 
And  weighed  down  the  head  of  the  War-King,  that  he  lay  in 

slumber  deep, 
And  forgat  to-day  and  to-morrow,  and  forgotten  yesterday  ; 
Till  he  woke  in  the  dawn  and  the  daylight,  and  the  sun  on 

the  gold  floor  lay, 
And  Brynhild  wakened  beside  him,  and  she  lay  with  folded 

hands, 
By  the  edges  forged  of  Regin  and  the  wonder  of  the  lands, 
The  Light  that  had  lain  in  the  Branstock,  the  hope  of  the 

Volsung  Tree, 
The  Sunderer,  the  Deliverer,  the  torch  of  days  to  be: 
Then  he  strove  to  remember  the  night,  and  what  deeds  had 

come  to  pass, 
And  what  deeds  he  should  do  hereafter,  and  what  manner  of 

man  he  was  ; 
For  tbere  in  the  golden  chamber  lav  the  dark  unwonted  gear, 
And  beside  his  cheek  on  the  pillow  were  long  locks  of  the 

raven  hair : 
But  at  last  be  remembered  the  even  and  the  deed  he  came  to  do, 
And  he  turned  and  spake  to  Brynhild  as  he  rose  from  the 

bolster  blue : 

"I  give  thee    thanks,   fair    woman,    for   the    wedding-troth 

fulfilled; 
I  have  come  where  the  Norns  have  led  me,  and  done  as  the 

high  Gods  willed  : 
But  now  give  we  the  gifts  of  the  morning,  for  I  needs  must 

depart  to  my  men 
And  look  on  the  Nibbing  children,  and  rule  o'er  the  people 

again. 


224  GERMAN  FOLK-LORE. 

But  I  thank  thee  well  for  thy  greeting,  and  thy  glory  that  I 

have  seen, 
For  but  little  thereto  are  those  tidings  that  folk  have  told  of 

the  Queen. 
Henceforth  with  the  Niblung  people  anew  beginneth  thy  life, 
And  fair  days  of  peace  await  thee,  and  fair  days  of  glorious 

strife. 
And  my  heart  shall  be  grieved  at  thy  grief,  and  be  glad  of 

thy  well-doing, 
And  all  men  shall  say  thou  hast  wedded  a  true  heart  and  a 

king." 

So  spake  he  in  semblance  of  Gunnar,  and  from  off  his  hand 

he  drew 
A  ring  of  the  spoils  of  the  Southland,  a  marvel  seen  but  of  few, 
And  he  set  the  ring  on  her  finger,  and  she  turned  to  her  lord 

and  spake  : 
"  I  thank  thee,  King,  for  thy  good- will,  and  thy  pledge  of  love 

I  take. 
Depart  with  my  troth  to  thy  people :  but  ere  full  ten  days 

are  o'er 
I  shall  come  to  the  Sons  of  the  Niblungs,  and  then  shall  we 

part  no  more 
Till  the  day  of  the  change  of  our  life  days,  when  Odin  and 

Freyia  shall  call. 
Lo,  here,  my  gift  of  the  morning !  'twas  my  dearest  treasure 

of  all ; 
But  thou  art  become  its  master,  and  for  thee  was  it  fore- 
ordained, 
Since  thou  art  the  man  of  mine  oath  and  the  best  that  the 

earth  hath  gained." 

And  lo,  'twas  the  Grief  of  Andvari,  and  the  lack  that  made 

him  loath, 
The  last  of  the  God-folk's  ransom,  the  Ring  of  Hindfell's 

oath ; 


STORY  OF  SIGURD   THE  YOLSUNG.      225 

Now  on  Sigurd's   hand    it   shineth,   and   long   he   looketh 

thereon, 
But  it  gave  him  back  no  memories  of  the  days  that  were 

bygone. 
Then  in  most  exceeding  sorrow  rose  Sigurd  from  the  bed, 
And  again  lay  Brynhild  silent  as  an  image  of  the  dead. 
Then  the  King  did  on  his  war-gear  and  girt  his  sword  to  his 

side, 
And  was  e'en  as  an  image  of  Gktnnar  when  the  Niblungs 

dight  them  to  ride. 
And  she  on  the  bed  of  the  bridal,  remembering  hope  that  was, 
Lay  still,  and    hearkened  his   footsteps   from   the   echoing 

chamber  pass. 
So  forth  from  the  hall  goes  the  Wooer,  and  slow  and  slow  he 

goes, 
As  a  conquered  king  from  his  city  fares  forth  to  meet  his  foes ; 
And  he  taketh  the  reins  of  Greyfell,  nor  yet  will  back  him 

there, 
But  afoot  through  the  cold  slaked  ashes  of  the  yester-eve 

doth  fare, 
With  his  eyes  cast  down  to  the  earth ;  till  he  heareth  the 

wind,  and  a  cry, 
And  raiseth  a  face  brow-knitted  and  beholdeth  men  anigh, 
And  beholdeth  Hogni  the  King  set  gray  on  his  coal-black 

steed, 
And  beholdeth  the  image  of  Sigurd,  the  King  in  the  golden 

weed  : 
Then  he  stayeth  and  stareth  astonished  and  setteth  his  hand 

to  his  sword  ; 
Till  Hogni  cries  from    Ins  saddle,  and  his  word    is  a  kindly 

word  : 

„" Hail,  brother,  and   King  of  the  people!  hail,  helper  of  my 
kin  ! 
Again  from  the  death  and  the  trouble  great  gifts  hast  thou 
set  thee  to  win 

FOLK-LOBE      15 


226  GERMAN  FOLK-LORE. 

Fo,r  thy  friends  and  the  Niblung  children,  and  hast  crowned 

thine  earthly  fame, 
And  increased  thine  exceeding  glory  and  the  sound  of  thy 

loved  name." 

Naught  Sigurd  spake  in  answer,  but  looked  straight  forth 

with  a  frown, 
And  stretched  out  his  hand  to  Gunnar,  as  one  that  claimeth 

his  own. 
Then  no  word  speaketh  Gunnar,  but  taketh  his  hand  in  his 

hand, 
And  they  look  in  the  eyes  of  each  other,  and  a  while  in  the 

desert  they  stand, 
Till  the  might  of  Grimhild  prevaileth,  and  the  twain  are  as 

yester-morn ; 
But  sad  was  the  golden  Sigurd,  though  his  eyes  knew  naught 

of  scorn  : 

And  he  spake : 

"  It  is  finished,  0  Gunnar  !  and  I  will  that 

our  brotherhood 
May  endure  through  the  good  and  the  evil  as  it  sprang  in  the 

days  of  the  good  : 
But  I  bid  thee  look  to  the  ending,  that  the  deed  I  did  yest'reve 
Bear  naught  for  me  to  repent  of,  for  thine  heart  of  hearts  to 

grieve. 
Thou  art  troth-plight,  0  King  of  the  Niblungs,  to  Brynhild-, 

Queen  of  the  earth ; 
She  hath  sworn  thine  heart  to  cherish  and  increase  thy  worth 

with  her  worth : 
She  shall  come  to  the  house  of  Gunnar  ere  ten  days  are  past 

and  o'er; 
And  thenceforth  the  life  of  Brynhild  shall  part  from  thy  life 

no  more, 
Till  the  doom  of  our  kind  shall  speed  you,  and  Odin  and 

Freyia  shall  call, 
And  ye  bide  the  Day  of  the  Battle,  and  the  uttermost  chang- 
ing of  all." 


STORY  OF  SIGURD  THE  VOLSUJVG.      227 

The  praise  and  thanks  they  gave  him  !  the  words  of  love  they 

spake ! 
The  tale  that  the  world  should   hear   of,  deeds  done  for 

Sigurd's  sake  ! 
They  were  lovely  might  you  hear  them :  but  they  lack ;  for 

in  very  deed 
Their  sound  was  clean  forgotten  in  the  day  of  Sigurd's  need. 

But  as  yet  are  those  King-folk  lovely,  and  no  guile  of  heart 

they  know, 
And,  in  troth  and  love  rejoicing,  by  Sigurd's  side  they  go : 
O'er  heath  and  holt  they  hie  them,  o'er  hill  and  dale  they 

ride, 
Till  they  come  to  the  Burg  of  the  Nibhmgs  and  the  war-gate 

of  their  pride ; 
And  there  is  Grimhild  the  wise-wife,  and  she  sits  and  spins 

in  the  hall. 

"  Rejoice,  0  mother,"   saith  Gunnar,  "  for  thy  guest  hath 

holpen  all, 
And  this  eve  shall  thy  sons  be  merry :  but  ere  ten  days  are 

o'er 
Here  cometh  the   Maid,  and  the  Queen,  the  Wise,  and  the 

Chooser  of  war ; 
So  wrought  is  the  will  of  the  Niblungs  and  their  blossoming 

boughs  increase, 
And  joyous  strife  shall  we  dwell  in,  and  merry  days  of  peace." 

So  that  night  in  the  hall  of  the  ancient  they  hold  high-tide 

again, 
And  the  Gods  on  the  Southland  hangings  smile  out  full  fair 

and  fain, 
And  the  song  goes  up  of  Sigurd,  and  the  praise  of  his  fame 

fulfilled, 
But  his  speech  in  the  dead  sleep  lieth,  and  the  words  of  his 

wisdom  are  chilled  : 


228  GERM  AM  FOLK-LORE. 

And  men  say,  The  King  is  careful,  for  he  thinks  of  the 

people's  weal, 
And  his  heart  is  afraid  for  our  trouble,  lest  the  Gods  our 

joyance  steal. 

But  that  night,  when  the  feast  was  over,  to  Gudrun  Sigurd 

came, 
And  she  noted  the  ring  on  his  finger,  and  she  knew  it  was 

nowise  the  same 
As  the  ring  he  was  wont  to  carry  ;  so  she  bade  him  tell  thereof : 
Then  he  turned  unto  her  kindly,  and  his  words  were  words 

of  love ; 
Nor  his  life  nor  his  death  he  heeded,  but  told  her  last  night's 

tale ; 
Yea,  he  drew  forth  the  sword  for  his  slaying,  and  whetted  the 

edges  of  bale ; 
For  he  took  that  Gold  of  Andvari,  that  Curse  of  the  utter- 
most land, 
And  he  spake  as  a  king  that  loveth,  and  set  it  on  her  hand ; 
But  her  heart  was  exceeding  joyous,  as  he  kissed  her  sweet 

and  soft, 
And  bade  her  bear  it   forever,  that  she  might  remember 

him  oft 
When  his  hand  from  the  world  was  departed  and  he  sat  in 

Odin's  home. 

But  no  one  of  his  words  she  forgat  when  the  latter  days  were 

come, 
When  the  earth  was  hard  for  her  footsteps,  and  the  heavens 

were  darkling  above, 
And  but  e'en  as  a  tale  that  is  told  were  waxen  the  years  of 

her  love. 
Yea,  thereof,  from  the  Gold  of  Andvari,  the  spark  of  the 

.  waters  wan, 
Sprang  a  flame  of  bitter  trouble,  and  the  death  of  many  a 

man, 


FAUST.  229 

And  the  quenching  of  the  kindreds,  and  the  blood  of  the 

broken  troth, 
And  the  Grievous  Need  of  the  Niblungs  and  the  Sorrow  of 

Odin  the  Goth. 


FAUST. 
(An  Extract.) 

BY   JOHANN   WOLFGANG   VON   GOETHE. 

(TRANSLATED   BY   ANNA   SWANWICK.) 

FAUST. 

Thy  name  ? 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

The  question  trifling  seems  from  one 
Who  it  appears  the  Word  doth  rate  so  low; 
WTho,  undeluded  by  mere  outward  show, 
To  Being's  depths  would  penetrate  alone. 

FAUST. 

With  gentlemen  like  you  indeed 

The  inward  essence  from  the  name  we  read, 

As  all  too  plainly  it  doth  appear, 

When  Beelzebub,  Destroyer,  Liar,  meets  the  ear. 

Who,  then,  art  thou? 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

Part  of  that  power  which  still 
Produceth  good,  whilst  ever  scheming  ill. 

FA  UST. 

What  hidden  mystery  in  this  riddle  lies? 

MKIMIISTOPHELES. 

The  spirit  I,  which  evermore  denies ! 

And  justly;  for  whate'er  to  light  is  brought 

Deserves  again  to  be  reduced  to  naught,* 


230  GERMAN  FOLK-LOBE. 

Then  better  'twere  that  naught  should  be. 
Thus  all  the  elements  which  ye 
Destruction,  Sin,  or  briefly,  Evil,  name, 
As  my  peculiar  element  I  claim. 

FAUST. 

Thou  nam'st  thyself  a  part,  and  yet  a  whole  I  see. 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

The  modest  truth  I  speak  to  thee. 

Though  folly's  microcosm,  man,  it  seems, 

Himself  to  be  a  perfect  whole  esteems, 

Part  of  the  part  am  I,  which  at  the  first  was  all. 

A  part  of  darkness,  which  gave  birth  to  light. 
Proud  light,  who  now  his  mother  would  enthrall, 
Contesting  space  and  ancient  rank  with  night. 
Yet  he  succeedeth  not,  for,  struggle  as  he  will, 
To  forms  material  he  adhereth  still ; 
From  them  he  streameth,  them  he  maketh  fair, 
And  still  the  progress  of  his  beams  they  check ; 
And  so,  I  trust,  when  comes  the  final  wreck, 
Light  will,  ere  long,  the  doom  of  matter  share. 

FAUST. 

Thy  worthy  avocation  now  I  guess ! 
Wholesale  annihilation  won't  prevail, 
So  thou'rt  beginning  on  a  smaller  scale. 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

And,  to  say  truth,  as  yet  with  small  success. 

Oppos'd  to  nothingness,  the  world, 

This  clumsy  mass,  subsisteth  still ; 

Not  yet  is  it  to  ruin  hurl'd, 

Despite  the  efforts  of  my  will. 

Tempests  and  earthquakes,  fire  and  flood,  I've  tried 

Yet  land  and  ocean  still  unchang'd  abide ! 


FAUST.  231 

And  then  of  humankind  and  beasts,  the  accursed  brood, 

Neither  o'er  them  can  I  extend  my  sway. 

What  countless  myriads  have  I  swept  away  ! 

Yet  ever  circulates  the  fresh  young  blood. 

It  is  enough  to  drive  me  to  despair  ! 

As  in  the  earth,  in  water,  and  in  air, 

In  moisture  and  in  drought,  in  heat  and  cold, 

Thousands  of  germs  their  energies  unfold  ! 

If  fire  I  had  not  for  myself  retain'd, 

No  sphere  whatever  had  for  me  remain'd. 

FAUST. 

So  thou  with  thy  cold  devil's  fist, 
Still  clinch'd  in  malice  impotent, 
Dost  the  creative  power  resist, 
The  active,  the  beneficent! 
Henceforth  some  other  task  essay, 
Of  Chaos  thou  the  wondrous  son ! 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

We  will  consider  what  you  say, 
And  talk  about  it  more  anon  ! 
For  this  time  have  I  leave  to  go? 

FA  UST. 

Why  thou  shouldst  ask,  I  can  not  see. 
Since  one  another  now  we  know, 
At  thy  good  pleasure,  visit  me. 
Here  is  the  window,  here  the  door; 
The  chimney,  too,  may  serve  thy  need. 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

I  must  confess,  my  stepping  o'er 

Thy  threshold  a  slight  hindrance  doth  impede: 

The  wizard-foot  doth  me  retain. 

FAUST. 

The  pentagram  thy  peace  doth  mar? 


232  GERMAN  FOLK-LORE. 

To  me,  thou  son  of  hell,  explain, 

How  earnest  thou  in,  if  this  thine  exit  bar? 

Could  such  a  spirit  aught  ensnare  ? 

MEPHISTOl'HELES. 

Observe  it  well,  it  is  not  drawn  with  care  : 
One  of  the  angles,  that  which  points  without, 
Is,  as  thou  seest,  not  quite  closed. 

FAUST. 

Chance  hath  the  matter  happily  dispos'd  ! 
So  thou  my  captive  art?     No  doubt 
By  accident  thou  thus  art  caught ! 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

In  sprang  the  dog,  indeed,  observing  naught ; 

Things  now  assume  another  shape. 

The  devil's  in  the  house  and  can't  escape. 

FAUST. 

Why  through  the  window  not  withdraw  ? 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

For  ghosts  and  for  the  devil  'tis  a  law, 

Where  they  stole  in,  there  they  must  forth.     We're  free 

The  first  to  choose  ;  as  to  the  second,  slaves  are  we. 

FAUST. 

E'en  hell  hath  its  peculiar  laws,  I  see  ! 

I'm  glad  of  that !  a  pact  may  then  be  made, 

The  which  you  gentlemen  will  surely  keep  ? 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

Whate'er  therein  is  promised  thou  shalt  reap, 

No  tittle  shall  remain  unpaid. 

But  such  arrangements  time  require  ; 

We'll  speak  of  them  when  next  we  meet ; 

Most  earnestly  I  now  entreat, 

Tli is  once  permission  to  retire. 


FAUST.  233 

FAUST. 

Another  moment  prithee  here  remain, 
Me  with  some  happy  word  to  pleasure. 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

Xow  let  me  go !  ere  long  I'll  come  again, 
Then  thou  mayst  question  at  thy  leisure. 

FAUST. 

To  capture  thee  was  not  my  will. 

Thyself  hast  freely  entered  in  the  snare  : 

Let  him  who  holds  the  devil,  hold  him  still ! 

A  second  time  so  soon  he  will  not  catch  him  there. 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

If  it  so  please  thee,  I'm  at  thy  command ; 
Only  on  this  condition,  understand  : 
That  worthily  thy  leisure  to  beguile, 
I  here  may  exercise  my  arts  awhile. 

FAUST. 

Thou'rt  free  to  do  so  !     Gladly  I'll  attend  ; 
But  be  thine  art  a  pleasant  one ! 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

My  friend, 
This  hour  enjoyment  more  intense, 
Shall  captivate  each  ravish'd  sense, 
Than  thou  couldst  compass  in  the  bound 
Of  the  whole  year's  unvarying  round  ; 
And  what  the  dainty  spirits  sing, 
The  lovely  images  they  bring, 
Are  no  fantastic  sorcery. 
Rich  odors  shall  regale  your  smell, 
On  choices!  sweets  your  palate  dwell, 
Your  feelings  thrill  with  ecstasy. 
No  preparation  do  we  need, 
Here  we  together  arc.     Proceed. 


234  GERMAN  FOLK-LORE. 

SPIRITS. 
Hence,  overshadowing  gloom, 
Vanish  from  sight ! 
O'er  us  thine  azure  dome, 
Bend,  beauteous  light ! 
Dark  clouds  that  o'er  us  spread, 
Melt  in  thin  air  ! 
Stars,  your  soft  radiance  shed, 
Tender  and  fair. 
Girt  with  celestial  might, 
Winging  their  airy  flight, 
Spirits  are  thronging. 
Follows  their  forms  of  light 
Infinite  longing ! 
Flutter  their  vestures  bright 
O'er  field  and  grove ! 
Where  in  their  leafy  bower 
Lovers  the  livelong  hour 
Vow  deathless  love. 
Soft  bloometh  bud  and  bower  ! 
Bloometh  the  grove  ! 
Grapes  from  the  spreading  vine 
Crown  the  full  measure  ; 
Fountains  of  foaming  wine 
Gush  from  the  pressure. 
Still  where  the  currents  wind, 
Gems  brightly  gleam. 
Leaving  the  hills  behind, 
On  rolls  the  stream  ; 
Now  into  ample  seas 
Spreadeth  the  flood  ; 
Laving  the  sunny  leas 
Mantled  with  wood, 
Rapture  the  feather'd  throng 
Gayly  careering, 
Sip  as  they  float  along  ; 


FAUST.  238 

Sunward  they're  steering ; 

On  towards  the  isles  of  light 

Winging  their  way, 

That  on  the  waters  bright 

Dancingly  play. 

Hark  to  the  choral  strain, 

Joyfully  ringing ! 

While  on  the  grassy  plain 

Dcincers  are  springing ; 

Climbing  the  steep  hill's  side, 

Skimming  the  glassy  tide, 

Wander  they  there ; 

Others  on  pinions  wide 

Wing  the  blue  air  ; 

On  towards  the  living  stream, 

Towards  yonder  stars  that  gleam, 

Far,  far  away ; 

Seeking  their  tender  beam 

Wing  they  their  way. 

MEPIIISTOPHELES. 

Well  done,  my  dainty  spirits  !  now  he  slumbers  ; 

Ye  have  entranc'd  him  fairly  with  your  numbers; 

This  minstrelsy  of  yours  I  must  repay— 

Thou  art  not  yet  the  man  to  hold  the  devil  fast  !— 

With  fairest  shapes  your  spells  around  him  cast, 

And  plunge  him  in  a  sea  of  dreams  ! 

But  that  this  charm  be  rent,  the  threshold  passed 

Tooth  of  rat  the  way  must  clear. 

I  need  not  conjure  long,  it  seems  ; 

One  rustles  hitherward,  and  soon  my  voice  will  hear. 

The  master  of  the  rats  and  mice, 
Of  flics  and  frogs,  of  bugs  and  lice, 
Commands  thy  presence  ;  without  fear 
Come  forth  and  gnaw  the  threshold  here, 


236  GERMAN  FOLK-LORE. 

Where  he  with  oil  has  smear'd  it. — Thou 

Com'st  hopping  forth  already  !     Now 

To  work  !     The  point  that  holds  me  bound 

Is  in  the  outer  angle  found. 

Another  bite — so — now  'tis  done — 

Now,  Faustus,  till  we  meet  again,  dream  on. 

faust  (awaking). 
Am  I  once  more  deluded  !  must  I  deem 
This  troop  of  thronging  spirits  all  ideal  ? 
The  devil's  presence,  was  it  nothing  real  ? 
The  poodle's  disappearance  but  a  dream  ? 

Study. 
Faust.    Mephistopheles. 

FAUST. 

A  knock  ?    Come  in  !    Who  now  would  break  my  rest  ? 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

'Tis  I ! 

FAUST. 

Come  in  ! 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

Thrice  be  the  words  express'd. 

FAUST. 

Then  I  repeat,  Come  in  ! 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

'Tis  well, 
I  hope  that  we  shall  soon  agree ! 
For  now  your  fancies  to  expel, 
Here,  as  a  youth  of  high  degree, 
I  come  in  gold-lac'd  scarlet  vest, 
And  stiff-silk  mantle  richly  dress'd, 


FAUST.  237 

A  cock's  gay  feather  for  a  plume, 
A  long  and  pointed  rapier,  too ; 
And  briefly  I  would  counsel  you 
To  don  at  once  the  same  costume, 
And,  free  from  trammels,  speed  away, 
That  what  life  is  you  may  essay. 

FAUST. 

In  every  garb  I  needs  must  feel  oppress'd, 

My  heart  to  earth's  low  cares  a  prey. 

Too  old  the  trifler's  part  to  play, 

Too  young  to  live  by  no  desire  possess'd. 

What  can  the  world  to  me  afford  ? 

Eenounce  !  renounce  !  is  still  the  word ; 

This  is  the  everlasting  song 

In  every  ear  that  ceaseless  rings, 

And  which,  alas  !  our  whole  life  long, 

Hoarsely  each  passing  moment  sings. 

But  to  new  horror  I  awake  each  morn, 

And  I  could  weep  hot  tears,  to  see  the  sun 

Dawn  on  another  day,  whose  round  forlorn 

Accomplishes  no  wish  of  mine — not  one. 

Which  still,  with  froward  captiousness,  impairs 

E'en  the  presentiment  of  every  joy, 

While  low  realities  and  paltry  cares 

The  spirit's  fond  imaginings  destroy. 

And  must  I  then,  when  falls  the  veil  of  night, 

Stretch'd  on  my  pallet,  languish  in  despair; 

Appalling  dreams  my  soul  affright; 

N<>  rest  vouchsafed  me  even  there. 

The  god,  who  throned  within  my  breast  resides, 

Deep  in  my  soul  can  stir  the  springs ; 

With  sovereign  sway  my  energies  he,  guides, 

lie  can  not  move  external  things, 

And  so  existence  is  to  me  ;i  weight  ; 

Death  fondly  I  desire,  and  life  I  hate. 


238  GERMAN  FOLK-LOBE. 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

And  yet,  metliinks,  by  most  'twill  be  confess'd 
That  Death  is  never  quite  a  welcome  guest. 

FAUST. 

Happy  the  man  around  whose  brow  he  binds 

The  bloodstain'd  wreath  in  conquest's  dazzling  hour ; 

Or  whom,  excited  by  the  dance,  he  finds 

Dissolved  in  bliss,  in  love's  delicious  bower ! 

0  that  before  the  lofty  spirit's  might, 

Enraptured,  I  had  rendered  up  my  soul ! 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

Yet  did  a  certain  man  refrain  one  night, 
Of  its  brown  juice  to  drain  the  crystal  bowl. 

FAUST. 

To  play  the  spy  diverts  you  then? 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

I  own, 
Though  not  omniscient,  much  to  me  is  known. 

FAUST. 

If  o'er  my  soul  the  tone  familiar,  stealing, 

Drew  me  from  harrowing  thought's  bewild'ring  maze, 

Touching  the  ling'ring  chords  of  childlike  feeling 

With  the  sweet  harmonies  of  happier  days  : 

So  curse  I  all,  around  the  soul  that  windeth 

Its  magic  and  alluring  spell, 

And  with  delusive  flattery  bindeth 

Its  victim  to  this  dreary  cell ! 

Curs'd  before  all  things  be  the  high  opinion 

Wherewith  the  spirit  girds  itself  around  ! 

Of  shows  delusive  curs'd  be  the  dominion 

Within  whose  mocking  sphere  our  sense  is  bound ! 


FAUST.  239 

Accurs'd  of  dreams  the  treacherous  wiles, 
The  cheat  of  glory,  deathless  fame! 
Accurs'd  what  each  as  property  beguiles, 
Wife,  child,  slave,  plow,  whate'er  its  name  ! 
Accurs'd  be  Mammon,  when  with  treasure 
He  doth  to  daring  deeds  incite  : 
Or  when,  to  steep  the  soul  in  pleasure, 
He  spreads  the  couch  of  soft  delight ! 
Curs'd  be  the  grape's  balsamic  juice ! 
Accurs'd  love's  dream,  of  joys  the  first ! 
Accurs'd  be  hope  !  accurs'd  be  faith  ! 
And,  more  than  all,  be  patience  curs'd  ! 

chorus  of  spirits  {invisible). 

Woe !  woe ! 

Thou  hast  destroy'd 

The  beautiful  world 

With  violent  blow : 

'Tis  shiver'd  !  'tis  shatter'd  ! 

The  fragments  abroad  by  a  demigod  scatter'd ! 

Now  we  sweep 

The  wrecks  into  nothingness  ! 

Fondly  we  weep 

The  beauty  that's  gone  ! 

Thou,  'mongst  the  sons  of  earth, 

Lofty  and  mighty  one, 

Build  it  once  more  ! 

In  thine  own  bosom  the  lost  world  restore ! 

Now  with  unclouded  sense 

Enter  a  new  career ; 

Songs  shall  salute  thine  ear, 

Ne'er  heard  before ! 

MEPHISTOPHELBS. 

My  little  ones  those  spirits  be. 
Hark!  with  shrewd  intelligence, 


240  GERMAN  FOLK-LORE. 

How  they  recommend  to  thee 
Action,  and  the  joys  of  sense ! 
In  the  busy  world  to  dwell, 
Fain  they  would  allure  thee  hence : 
For  within  this  lonely  cell 
Stagnate  sap  of  life  and  sense. 

Forbear  to  trifle  longer  with  thy  grief, 

Which,  vulture-like,  consumes  thee  in  this  den. 

The  worst  society  is  some  relief, 

Making  thee  feel  thyself  a  man  with  men. 

Nathless  it  is  not  meant,  I  trow, 

To  thrust  thee  'mid  the  vulgar  throng. 

I  to  the  upper  ranks  do  not  belong ! 

Yet  if  by  me,  companion'd,  thou 

Thy  steps  through  life  forthwith  wilt  take, 

Upon  the  spot  myself  I'll  make 

Thy  comrade ; — 

Should  it  suit  thy  need, 

I  am  thy  servant,  am  thy  slave  indeed ! 

FAUST. 

And  how  must  I  thy  services  repay  ? 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

Thereto  thou  lengthen'd  respite  hast ! 

FAUST. 

No!  no! 
The  devil  is  an  egotist,  I  know : 
And,  for  Heaven's  sake,  'tis  not  his  way 
Kindness  to  any  one  to  show. 
Let  the  condition  plainly  be  exprest ; 
Such  a  domestic  is  a  dangerous  guest. 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

I'll  pledge  myself  to  be  thy  servant  here, 
Still  at  thy  back  alert  and  prompt  to  be ; 


FAUST.  241 

But  when  together  yonder  we  appear, 
Then  shalt  thou  do  the  same  for  me. 

FAUST. 

But  small  concern  I  feel  for  yonder  world ; 

Hast  thou  this  system  into  ruin  hurl'd, 

Another  may  arise  the  void  to  fill. 

This  earth  the  fountain  whence  my  pleasures  flow, 

This  sun  doth  daily  shine  upon  my  woe, 

And  if  this  world  I  must  forego, 

Let  happen  then, — what  can  and  will. 

I  to  this  theme  will  close  mine  ears, 

If  men  hereafter  hate  and  love, 

And  if  there  be  in  yonder  spheres 

A  depth  below  or  height  above. 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

In  this  mood  thou  mayst  venture  it.     But  make 
The  compact,  and  at  once  I'll  undertake 
To  charm  thee  with  mine  arts.     I'll  give  thee  more 
Than  mortal  eye  hath  e'er  beheld  before. 

'  FAUST. 

What,  sorry  Devil,  hast  thou  to  bestow? 

Was  ever  mortal  spirit,  in  its  high  endeavor, 

Fathom'd  by  Being  such  as  thou  ? 

Yet  food  thou  hast,  which  satisfieth  never; 

East  ruddy  gold,  that  still  doth  flow 

Like  restless  quicksilver  away; 

A  game  thou  hast,  at  which  none  win  who  play; 

A  girl  who  would,  with  amorous  eyen, 

E'en  from  my  breast,  a  neighbor  snare; 

Lofty  ambition's  joy  divine, 

That,  meteor-like,  dissolves  in  air. 

Show  me  the  fruit  that,  ere  'tis  pluck'd,  doth  rot, 

And  trees  whose  verdure  daily  buds  anew. 

FOLK-LOBE      l<i 


242  GERMAN  FOLK-LOBE. 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

Such  a  commission  scares  me  not ; 

I  can  provide  such  treasures,  it  is  true ; 

But,  my  good  friend,  a  season  will  come  round, 

When  on  what's  good  we  may  regale  in  peace. 

FAUST. 

If  e'er  upon  my  couch,  stretched  at  my  ease,  I'm  found, 

Then  may  my  life  that  instant  cease  ; 

Me  canst  thou  cheat  with  glozing  wile 

Till  self-reproach  away  I  cast? — 

Me  with  joy's  lure  canst  thou  beguile? — 

Let  that  day  be  for  me  the  last ! 

Be  this  our  wager  ! 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

Settled  ! 

FAUST. 

Sure  and  fast ! 
When  to  the  moment  I  shall  say, 
"  Linger  awhile,  so  fair  thou  art ! " 
Then  mayst  thou  fetter  me  straightway, 
Then  to  the  abyss  will  I  depart ; 
Then  may  the  solemn  death-bell  sound, 
Then  from  thy  service  thou  art  free, 
The  index  then  may  cease  its  round, 
And  time  be  never  more  for  me  ! 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

I  shall  remember :  pause,  ere  'tis  too  late. 

FAUST. 

Thereto  a  perfect  right  hast  thou. 

My  strength  I  do  not  rashly  overrate. 

Slave  am  I  here,  at  any  rate, 

If  thine,  or  whose,  it  matters  not,  I  trow. 


FAUST.  243 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

At  thine  inaugural  feast  I  will  this  day 
Attend,  my  duties  to  commence. — 
But  one  thing  :  accidents  may  happen,  hence 
A  line  or  two  in  writing  grant,  I  pray. 

FAUST. 

A  writing,  Pedant!  dost  demand  from  me? 

Man,  and  man's  plighted  word,  are  these  unknown  to  thee? 

Is't  not  enough,  that  by  the  word  I  gave, 

My  doom  for  evermore  is  cast? 

Doth  not  the  world  in  all  its  currents  rave, 

And  must  a  promise  hold  me  fast? 

Yet  fixed  is  this  delusion  in  our  heart ; 

Who,  of  his  own  free  will,  therefrom  would  part? 

How  blest  within  whose  breast  truth  reigneth  pure ! 

No  sacrifice  will  he  repent  when  made ! 

A  formal  deed,  with  seal  and  signature, 

A  specter  this  from  which  all  shrink  afraid. 

The  word  its  life  resigneth  in  the  pen, 

Leather  and  wax  usurp  the  mastery  then. 

Spirit  of  evil !  what  dost  thou  require? 

Brass,  marble,  parchment,  paper,  dost  desire? 

Shall  I  with  chisel,  pen,  or  graver  write  ? 

Thy  choice  is  free  ;  to  me  'tis  all  the  same. 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

Wherefore  thy  passion  so  excite, 

And  thus  thine  eloquence  inflame? 

A  scrap  is  for  our  compact  ,^ood. 

Thou  undersignest  merely  with  a  drop  of  blood. 

FAUST. 
If  this  will  satisfy  thy  mind, 
Thy  whim  I'll  gratify,  howe'er  absurd. 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

Blood  is  a  juice  of  very  special  kind. 


244  GERMAN  FOLK-LOBE. 

FAUST. 

Be  not  afraid  that  I  shall  break  my  word  ! 
The  scope  of  all  my  energy 
Is  in  exact  accordance  with  my  vow. 
Vainly  I  have  aspired  too  high ; 
I'm  on  a  level  but  with  such  as  thou  ; 
Me  the  great  spirit  scorn'd,  defied ; 
Nature  from  me  herself  doth  hide  ; 
Kent  is  the  web  of  thought ;  my  mind 
Doth  knowledge  loathe  of  every  kind. 
In  depths  of  sensual  pleasure  drown'd, 
Let  us  our  fiery  passions  still ! 
Enwrapp'd  in  magic's  veil  profound, 
Let  wondrous  charms  our  senses  thrill ! 
Plunge  we  in  Time's  tempestuous  flow, 
Stem  we  the  rolling  surge  of  chance ! 
There  may  alternate  weal  and  woe, 
Success  and  failure  as  they  can, 
Mingle  and  shift  in  changeful  dance  ! 
Excitement  is  the  sphere  for  man. 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

Nor  goal  nor  measure  is  prescrib'd  to  you. 
If  you  desire  to  taste  of  every  thing, 
To  snatch  at  joy  while  on  the  wing, 
May  your  career  amuse  and  profit  too  ! 
Only  fall  to  and  don't  be  over  coy  ! 

FAUST. 

Hearken  !     The  end  I  aim  at  is  not  joy ; 

I  crave  excitement,  agonizing  bliss. 

Enamor'd  hatred,  quickening  vexation. 

Purg'd  from  the  love  of  knowledge,  my  vocation, 

The  scope  of  all  my  powers  henceforth  be  this, 

To  bare  my  breast  to  every  pang— to  know 

In  my  heart's  core  all  human  weal  and  woe, 


FAUST.  245 

To  grasp  in  thought  the  lofty  and  the  deep, 

Men's  various  fortunes  on  my  breast  to  heap, 

And  thus  to  theirs  dilate  my  individual  mind, 

And  share  at  length  with  them  the  shipwreck  of  mankind. 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

Oh,  credit  me,  who  still  as  ages  roll, 

Have  chew'd  this  bitter  fare  from  year  to  year, 

No  mortal,  from  the  cradle  to  the  bier, 

Digests  the  ancient  leaven  !     Know,  this  Whole 

Doth  for  the  Deity  alone  subsist ! 

He  in  eternal  brightness  doth  exist ; 

Us  unto  darkness  he  hath  brought,  and  here, 

Where  day  and  night  alternate,  is  your  sphere. 

FAUST. 

But  'tis  my  will ! 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

Well  spoken,  I  admit ! 
But  one  thing  puzzles  me,  my  friend  : 
Time's  short,  art  long;  methinks  'twere  fit 
That  you  to  friendly  counsel  should  attend. 
A  poet  choose  as  your  ally  ! 
Let  him  thought's  wide  dominion  sweep, 
Each  good  and  noble  quality, 
Upon  your  honored  brow  to  heap  ; 
The  lion's  magnanimity, 
The  fleetness  of  the  hind, 
The  fiery  blood  of  Italy, 
The  Northern's  steadfast  mind  ! 
Let  him  to  you  the  mystery  show 
To  blend  high  aims  and  canning  low  ; 
And  while  youth's  passions  are  allame 
To  fall  in  love  by  rule  and  plan  ! 
I  fain  would  meet  with  such  a  man  ; 
Would  him  Sir  Mierocosmus  name. 


246  GERMAN  FOLK-LORE. 

FAUST. 

What,  then,  am  I,  if  I  aspire  in  vain 
The  crown  of  our  humanity  to  gain, 
Towards  which  my  every  sense  doth  strain  ? 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

Thou'rt  after  all — just  what  thou  art. 
Put  on  thy  head  a  wig  with  countless  locks, 
Raise  to  a  cubit's  height  thy  learned  socks, 
Still  thou  remainest  ever,  what  thou  art. 

FAUST. 

I  feel  it,  I  have  heap'd  upon  my  brain 
The  gather'd  treasure  of  man's  thought  in  vain ; 
And  when  at  length  from  studious  toil  I  rest, 
No  power,  newborn,  springs  up  within  my  breast ; 
A  hair's  breadth  is  not  added  to  my  height ; 
I  am  no  nearer  to  the  infinite. 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

Good  sir,  these  things  you  view  indeed 

Just  as  by  other  men  they're  view'd  ; 

We  must  more  cleverly  proceed, 

Before  life's  joys  our  grasp  elude. 

The  devil !  thou  hast  hands  and  feet, 

And  head  and  heart  are  also  thine  ; 

What  I  enjoy  with  relish  sweet, 

Is  it  on  that  account  less  mine  ? 

If  for  six  stallions  I  can  pay, 

Do  I  not  own  their  strength  and  speed  ? 

A  proper  man  I  dash  away, 

As  their  two  dozen  legs  were  mine  indeed. 

Up,  then,  from  idle  pondering  free, 

And  forth  into  the  world  with  me  ! 

I  tell  you  what — your  speculative  churl 

Is  like  a  beast  which  some  ill  spirit  leads 


FAUST.  247 

On  barren  wilderness,  in  ceaseless  whirl, 
While  all  around  lie  fair  and  verdant  meads. 

FAUST. 

But  how  shall  we  begin  ? 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

We  will  go  hence  with  speed : 
A  place  of  torment  this  indeed  ! 
A  precious  life,  thyself  to  bore, 
And  some  few  youngsters  evermore  ! 
Leave  it  to  neighbor  Paunch ; — withdraw, 
Why  wilt  thou  plague  thyself  with  thrashing  straw  ? 
The  very  best  that  thou  dost  know 
Thou  dar'st  not  to  the  striplings  show. 
One  in  the  passage  now  doth  wait ! 

FAUST. 

I'm  in  no  mood  to  see  him  now. 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

Poor  lad  !     He  must  be  tired,  I  trow  ; 
He  must  not  go  disconsolate. 
Hand  me  thy  cap  and  gown ;  the  mask 
Is  for  my  purpose  quite  first  rate. 

(He  changes  Ms  dress.) 
Now  leave  it  to  my  wit !     I  ask 
But  quarter  of  an  hour  ;  meanwhile  equip 
And  make  all  ready  for  our  pleasant  trip ! 

(Exit  Faust.) 

mbphistopheles  (in  Faust's  long  goion). 
Mortal !  the  loftiest  attributes  of  men, 
Reason  and  Knowledge,  only  thus  contemn, 
Still  let  the  Prince  of  lies,  without  control, 
With  shows,  and  mocking  charms  delude  thy  soul, 
I  have  thee  unconditionally  then  ! — 


248  GERMAN  FOLK-LORE. 

Fate  hath  endow'd  him  with  an  ardent  mind, 

Which  unrestrain'd  still  presses  on  forever, 

And  whose  precipitate  endeavor 

Earth's  joys  o'erleaping,  leaveth  them  behind. 

Him  will  I  drag  through  life's  wild  waste, 

Through  scenes  of  vapid  dullness,  where  at  last, 

Bewilder'd,  he  shall  falter,  and  stick  fast ; 

And,  still  to  mock  his  greedy  haste, 

Viands  and  drink  shall  float  his  craving  lips  beyond- 

Vainly  he'll  seek  refreshment,  anguish-tost, 

And  were  he  not  the  devil's  by  his  bond, 

Yet  must  his  soul  infallibly  be  lost ! 

(A  Student  enters.) 

STUDENT. 

But  recently  I've  quitted  home  ; 
Full  of  devotion  am  I  come 
A  man  to  know  and  hear,  whose  name 
With  reverence  is  known  to  fame. 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

Your  courtesy  much  flatters  me  ! 
A  man  like  other  men  you  see  ; 
Pray  have  you  yet  applied  elsewhere  ? 

STUDENT. 

I  would  entreat  your  friendly  care  ! 

I've  youthful  blood  and  courage  high  ; 

Of  gold  I  bring  a  fair  supply ; 

To  let  me  go  my  mother  was  not  fain  ; 

But  here  I  longed  true  knowledge  to  attain. 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

You've  hit  upon  the  very  place. 

STUDENT. 

And  yet  my  steps  I  would  retrace. 


FAUST.  249 


These  walls,  this  melancholy  room, 
O'erpower  me  with  a  sense  of  gloom  ; 
The  space  is  narrow,  nothing  green, 
No  friendly  tree  is  to  be  seen  ; 
And  in  these  halls,  with  benches  lined, 
Sight,  hearing  fail,  fails  too  my  mind. 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

It  all  depends  on  habit.     Thus  at  first 

The  infant  takes  not  kindly  to  the  breast, 

But  before  long  its  eager  thirst 

Is  fain  to  slake  with  hearty  zest : 

Thus  at  the  breasts  of  Wisdom,  day  by  day, 

With  keener  relish  you'll  your  thirst  allay. 

STUDENT. 

Upon  her  neck  I  fain  would  hang  with  joy; 
To  reach  it,  say,  what  means  must  I  employ  ? 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

Explain,  ere  further  time  we  lose, 
What  special  faculty  you  choose? 

STUDENT. 

Profoundly  learned  I  would  grow, 
What  heaven  contains  would  comprehend, 
O'er  earth's  wide  realm  my  gaze  extend; 
Nature  and  science  I  desire  to  know. 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

You  are  upon  the  proper  track,  I  find ; 
Take  heed,  let  nothing  dissipate  your  mind. 

STUDENT. 

My  heart  and  soul  are  in  the  chase  ! 
Though,  to  be  sure,  I  fain  would  seize, 
On  pleasant  summer  holidays, 
A  little  liberty  and  cureless  ease. 


250  GERMAN  FOLK-LORE. 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

Use  well  your  time,  so  rapidly  it  flies ; 

Method  will  teach  you  time  to  win  ; 

Hence,  my  young  friend,  I  would  advise 

With  college  logic  to  begin  ! 

Then  will  your  mind  be  so  well  braced, 

In  Spanish  boots  so  tightly  laced, 

That  on  'twill  circumspectly  creep, 

Thought's  beaten  track  securely  keep  ; 

Nor  will  it,  ignis-fatuus  like, 

Into  the  path  of  error  strike. 

Then  many  a  day  they'll  teach  you  how 

The  mind's  spontaneous  acts,  till  now 

As  eating  and  as  drinking  free, 

Require  a  process  : — one  !  two  !  three  ! 

In  truth,  the  subtle  web  of  thought 

Is  like  the  weaver's  fabric  wrought : 

One  treadle  moves  a  thousand  lines, 

Swift  dart  the  shuttles  to  and  fro, 

Unseen  the  threads  together  flow, 

A  thousand  knots  one  stroke  combines. 

Then  forward  steps  your  sage  to  show, 

And  prove  to  you,  it  must  be  so ; 

The  first  being  so,  and  so  the  second, 

The  third  and  fourth  deduc'd  we  see  ; 

And  if  there  were  no  first  and  second, 

Nor  third  nor  fourth  would  ever  be. 

This,  scholars  of  all  countries  prize, — 

Yet  'mong  themselves  no  weavers  rise. 

He  who  would  know  and  treat  of  aught  alive, 

Seeks  first  the  living  spirit  thence  to  drive : 

Then  are  the  lifeless  fragments  in  his  hand, 

There  only  fails,  alas !  the  spirit-band. 

This  process,  chemists  name,  in  learned  thesis, 

Mocking  themselves,  Naturae  encheiresis. 


FAUST.  251 

STUDENT. 

Your  words  I  can  not  fully  comprehend. 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

In  a  short  time  you  will  improve,  my  friend, 
When  of  scholastic  forms  you  learn  the  use, 
And  how  by  method  all  things  to  reduce. 

STUDENT. 

So  doth  all  this  my  brain  confound, 

As  if  a  mill-wheel  there  were  turning  round. 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

And  next,  before  aught  else  you  learn, 

You  must  with  zeal  to  metaphysics  turn  ! 

There  see  that  you  profoundly  comprehend, 

What  doth  the  limit  of  man's  brain  transcend  ; 

For  that  which  is  or  is  not  in  the  head 

A  sounding  phrase  will  serve  you  in  good  stead. 

But,  before  all,  strive  this  half  year 

From  one  fix'd  order  ne'er  to  swerve ! 

Five  lectures  daily  you  must  hear; 

The  hour  still  punctually  observe ! 

Yourself  with  studious  zeal  prepare, 

And  closely  in  your  manual  look ; 

Hereby  may  you  be  quite  aware 

That  all  he  utters  standeth  in  the  book ; 

Yet  write  away  without  cessation, 

As  at  the  Holy  Ghost's  dictation  ! 

STUDENT. 

This,  sir,  a  second  time  you  need  not  say  ! 
Your  counsel  I  appreciate  quite; 
What  we  possess  in  black  and  white, 
We  can  in  peace  and  comfort  bear  away. 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

A  faculty  I  pray  you  name. 


252  GERMAN  FOLK-LOBE. 

STUDENT. 

For  jurisprudence  some  distaste  I  own. 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

To  me  this  branch  of  science  is  well  known, 

And  hence  I  can  not  your  repugnance  blame. 

Customs  and  laws  in  'every  place, 

Like  a  disease,  an  heir-loom  dread, 

Still  trail  their  curse  from  race  to  race, 

And  furtively  abroad  they  spread. 

To  nonsense,  reason's  self  they  turn  ; 

Beneficence  becomes  a  pest ; 

Woe  unto  thee,  that  thou'rt  a  grandson  born  ! 

As  for  the  law  born  with  us,  unexpressed — 

That  law,  alas !  none  careth  to  discern. 

STUDENT. 

You  deepen  my  dislike.  The  youth 
Whom  you  instruct  is  blest  in  sooth. 
To  try  theology  I  feel  inclined. 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

I  would  not  lead  you  willingly  astray, 
But  as  regards  this  science,  you  will  find, 
So  hard  it  is  to  shun  the  erring  way, 
And  so  much  hidden  poison  lies  therein, 
Which  scarce  can  you  discern  from  medicine. 
Here,  too,  it  is  the  best  to  listen  but  to  one, 
And  by  the  master's  words  to  swear  alone. 
To  sum  up  all :  To  words  hold  fast ! 
Then  the  safe  gate  securely  pass'd, 
You'll  reach  the  fane  of  certainty  at  last. 

STUDENT. 

But  then  some  meaning  must  the  words  convey. 


FAUST.  253 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

Right !     But  o'er-anxious  thought  you'll  find  of  no  avail, 

For  there  precisely  where  ideas  fail, 

A  word  comes  opportunely  into  play. 

Most  admirable  weapons  words  are  found ; 

On  words  a  system  we  securely  ground  ; 

In  words  we  can  conveniently  believe, 

Nor  of  a  single  jot  can  we  a  word  bereave. 

STUDENT. 

Your  pardon  for  my  importunity  ; 

Yet  once  more  must  I  trouble  you  : 

On  medicine,  I'll  thank  you  to  supply 

A  pregnant  utterance  or  two ! 

Three  years  !  how  brief  the  appointed  tide  ! 

The  field,  Heaven  knows,  is  all  too  wide  ! 

If  but  a  friendly  hint  be  thrown, 

'Tis  easier  then  to  feel  one's  way. 

MEPHISTOPHELES  {aside). 

I'm  weary  of  the  dry  pedantic  tone, 
And  must  again  the  genuine  devil  play. 

{Aloud.) 
Of  medicine  the  spirit's  caught  with  ease, 
The  great  and  little  world  you  study  through, 
That  things  may  then  their  course  pursue, 
As  Heaven  may  please. 

In  vain  abroad  you  range  through  science'  ample  space, 
Each  man  learns  only  that  which  learn  he  can ; 
Who  knows  the  moment  to  embrace, 
He  is  your  proper  man. 
In  person  you  arc  tolerably  made, 
Nor  in  assurance  will  you  he  deficient: 
Self-confidence  acquire,  lie  not  afraid, 
Others  will  then  esteem  you  a  proficient. 
Learn  chiefly  with  the  sex  to  deal  ! 


2S4  GERMAN  FOLK-LORE. 

Their  thousand  ahs  and  ohs, 

These  the  sage  doctor  knows, 

He  only  from  one  point  can  heal. 

Assume  a  decent  tone  of  courteous  ease, 

You  have  them  then  to  humor  as  you  please. 

First  a  diploma  must  belief  infuse, 

That  you  in  your  profession  take  the  lead  : 

You  then  at  once  those  easy  freedoms  use 

For  which  another  many  a  year  must  plead ; 

Learn  how  to  feel  with  nice  address 

The  dainty  wrist ; — and  how  to  press, 

With  ardent  furtive  glance,  the  slender  waist, 

To  feel  how  tightly  it  is  laced. 

STUDENT. 

There  is  some  sense  in  that !  one  sees  the  how  and  why. 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

Gray  is,  young  friend,  all  theory : 
And  green  of  life  the  golden  tree. 

STUDENT. 

I  swear  it  seemeth  like  a  dream  to  me. 

May  I  some  future  time  repeat  my  visit, 

To  hear  on  what  your  wisdom  grounds  your  views? 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

Command  my  humble  service  when  you  choose. 

STUDENT. 

Ere  I  retire,  one  boon  I  must  solicit : 
Here  is  my  album — do  not,  sir,  deny 
This  token  of  your  favor ! 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

Willingly ! 
(lie  writes,  and  returns  the  book.) 
student  (reads). 
Eeitis  sicut  Deus,  scientes  bonum  et  malum. 
(He  reverently  closes  the  book  and  retires.) 


FAUST.  2S5 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

Let  but  this  ancient  proverb  be  your  rule, 

My  cousin  follow  still,  the  wily  snake, 

And  with  your  likeness  to  the  gods,  poor  fool ! 

Ere  long  be  sure  your  poor  sick  heart  will  quake  ! 

faust  {enters). 
Whither  away  ? 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

'Tis  thine  our  course  to  steer. 
The  little  world,  and  then  the  great  we'll  view. 
With  what  delight,  what  profit  too, 
Thou 'It  revel  through  thy  gay  career ! 

FAUST. 

Despite  my  length  of  beard  I  need 
The  easy  manners  that  insure  success  : 
Th'  attempt,  I  fear,  can  ne'er  succeed  ; 
To  mingle  in  the  world  I  want  address ; 
I  still  have  an  embarrass'd  air,  and  then 
I  feel  myself  so  small  with  other  men. 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

Time,  my  good  friend,  will  all  that's  needful  give ; 
Be  only  self-possessed,  and  thou  hast  learn'd  to  live. 

FAUST. 

But  how  are  we  to  start,  I  pray? 

Steeds,  servants,  carriage,  where  are  they? 

MEPHISTOPHELES. 

We've  but  to  spread  this  mantle  wide, 
Twill  serve  whereon  through  air  to  ride  ; 
No  heavy  baggage  need  you  take, 
When  we  our  bold  excursion  make; 
A  little  gas,  which  I  will  soon  prepare, 
Lifts  us  from  earth  ;  aloft  through  air, 
Light  laden,  we  shall  swiftly  steer. 
I  wish  you  joy  of  your  new  life-career. 


236  GERMAN  FOLK-LORE. 


THE    ERL-KING. 

BY   JOHANN   WOLFGANG   VON   GOETHE. 
(TRANSLATED   BY    EDGAR   ALFRED    BOWRING.) 

Who  rides  there  so  late  through  the  night  dark  and  drear  ? 

The  father  it  is  with  his  infant  so  dear ; 

He  holdeth  the  boy  tightly  clasp'd  in  his  arm, 

He  holdeth  him  safely,  he  keepeth  him  warm. 

"  My  son,  wherefore  seek'st  thou  thy  face  thus  to  hide?" 
"  Look,  father,  the  Erl-King  is  close  by  our  side  ! 
Dost  see  not  the  Erl-King,  with  crown  and  with  train  ?  " 
"  My  son,  'tis  the  mist  rising  over  the  plain." 

"  Oh,  come,  thou  dear  infant!  oh,  come  thou  with  me! 
Full  many  a  game  I  will  play  there  with  thee  ; 
On  my  strand,  lovely  flowers  their  blossoms  unfold ; 
My  mother  shall  grace  thee  with  garments  of  gold." 

"  My  father,  my  father,  and  dost  thou  not  hear 

The  words  that  the  Erl-King  now  breathes  in  mine  ear  ?  " 

"  Be  calm,  dearest  child,  'tis  thy  fancy  deceives  ; 

'Tis  the  sad  wind  that  sighs  through  the  withering  leaves." 

"  Wilt  go,  then,  dear  infant,  wilt  go  with  me  there  ? 
My  daughters  shall  tend  thee  with  sisterly  care  ; 
My  daughters  by  night  their  glad  festival  keep  ; 
They'll  dance  thee,  and  rock  thee,  and  sing  thee  to  sleep." 

"  My  father,  my  father,  and  dost  thou  not  see 

How  the  Erl-King  his  daughters  has  brought  here  for  me  ?  " 

"  My  darling,  my  darling,  I  see  it  aright : 

'Tis  the  aged  gray  willows  deceiving  thy  sight." 

"  I  love  thee,  I'm  charm'd  by  thy  beauty,  dear  boy  ! 
And  if  thou'rt  unwilling,  then  force  I'll  employ." 


THE  PIED   PIPER   OF  HAMELIN.        237 

"  My  father,  my  father,  he  seizes  me  fast, 
Full  sorely  the  Eii-King  has  hurt  me  at  last." 

The  father  now  gallops,  with  terror  half  wild  ; 
He  grasps  in  his  arms  the  poor  shuddering  child  ; 
He  reaches  his  courtyard  with  toil  and  with  dread — 
The  child  in  his  arms  iinds  he  motionless,  dead. 


THE    PIED    PIPER    OF    HAMELIN. 

BY    ROBERT    BROWNING. 

HAMELIN  Town's  in  Brunswick, 
By  famous  Hanover  city; 

The  river  W-eser,  deep  and  wide 
Washes  its  wall  on  the  southern  side; 
A  pleasanter  spot  you  never  spied  : 
But,  when  begins  my  ditty, 

Almost  five  hundred  years  ago, 
To  see  the  townsfolk  suffer  so 
From  vermin,  was  a  pity. 

Rats! 

Tin",  fought  the  dogs  and  killed  (he  cats, 
And  bit  the  babies  in  the  cradles, 

And  ate  the  cheeses  out  of  the  vats, 

And  Licked  the  si. up  from  the  cook's  own  ladles, 
Split  open  the  kegs  of  salted  sprats, 
Made  nests  inside  men's  Sunday  hats, 
And  even  spoiled  the  women's  chats, 
By  drowning  their  speaking 
With  shrieking  and  squeaking 
In  fifty  differenl  sharps  and  flats. 

At  lasl  tin'  people  in  a  body 

To  the  Town-hall  came  flocking : 
"'Tie  clear,"  cried  they,  "  our  Mayor's  ;i  noddy  ; 
.  .     o»r  our  Corporation— shocking, 

FOLK-LORE      17 


258  GERMAN  FOLK-LORE. 

To  think  we  buy  gowns  lined  with  ermine 
For  dolts  that  can't  or  won't  determine 
What's  best  to  rid  us  of  our  vermin  ! 
You  hope,  because  you're  old  and  obese, 
To  find  in  the  furry  civic  robe  ease  ? 
Rouse  up,  sirs  !     Give  your  brains  a  racking 
To  find  the  remedy  we're  lacking, 
Or,  sure  as  fate,  we'll  send  you  packing  !  " 
At  this  the  Mayor  and  Corporation 
Quaked  with  a  mighty  consternation. 

An  hour  they  sat  in  council ; 

At  length  the  Mayor  broke  silence  : 
"  For  a  guilder  Fd  my  ermine  gown  sell ; 

I  wish  I  were  a  mile  hence  ! 
It's  easy  to  bid  one  rack  one's  brain — 
I'm  sure  my  poor  head  aches  again, 
I've  scratched  it  so,  and  all  in  vain. 
Oh,  for  a  trap,  a  trap,  a  trap  !  " 
Just  as  he  said  this,  what  should  hap 
At  the  chamber  door  but  a  gentle  tap? 
"  Bless  us,"  cried  the  Mayor,  "  what's  that? 
Only  the  scraping  of  shoes  on  the  mat? 
Anything  like  the  sound  of  a  rat 
Makes  my  heart  go  pit-a-pat ! 

"  Come  in  !  "  the  Mayor  cried,  looking  bigger 
And  in  did  come  the  strangest  figure ! 
His  queer  long  coat  from  heel  to  head 
Was  half  of  yellow  and  half  of  red ; 
And  he  himself  was  tall  and  thin, 
With  sharp  blue  eyes  each  like  a  pin, 
And  light  loose  hair,  yet  swarthy  skin, 
No  tuft  on  cheek,  nor  beard  on  chin, 
But  lips  where  smiles  went  out  and  in. 
There  was  no  guessing  his  kith  and  kin  ! 


THE  PIED  PIPER  OF  HAMELIN.        259 

And  nobody  could  enough  admire 

The  tall  man  and  his  quaint  attire  : 

Quoth  one  :  "  It's  as  my  great-grandsire, 

Starting  up  at  the  Trump  of  Doom's  tone, 

Had  walked  this  way  from  his  painted  tombstone!" 

He  advanced  to  the  council  table, 

And,  "  Please  your  honors,"  said  he,  "  I'm  able, 

By  means  of  a  secret  charm,  to  draw 
All  creatures  living  beneath  the  sun, 
■  That  creep  or  swim  or  fly  or  run, 

After  me  so  as  you  never  saw ; 
And  I  chiefly  use  my  charm 
On  creatures  that  do  people  harm, 
The  mole  and  toad  and  newt  and  viper ; 
And  people  call  me  the  Pied  Piper. 
Yet,"  said  he,  "  poor  piper  as  I  am, 
In  Tartary  I  freed  the  Cham 

Last  June  from  his  huge  swarms  of  gnats; 
I  eased  in  Asia  the  Nizam 

Of  a  monstrous  brood  of  vampire-bats: 
A)id  as  for  what  your  brain  bewilders, 

If  I  can  rid  your  town  of  rats 
Will  vou  give  me  a  thousand  guilders?" 
"  One?  fifty  thousand  !  "  was  the  exclamation 
Of  the  astonished  Mayor  and  Corporation. 

Into  the  stive!  the  Piper  ste|>f, 

Smiling  first  a  little  smile, 
As  if  he  knew  what  magic  slept 

In  his  quiet  pipe  the  while; 
Then  like  a  musical  adept, 
To  blow  the  pipe  his  lips  he  wrinkled, 
And  green  and  blue  his  sharp  eyes  twinkled, 
Like  a  candle  flame  where  sail  is  sprinkled  ; 
And  ere  three  shrill  notes  the  pipe  uttered, 
You  heard  as  if  an  army  mui  tered  ; 


260  GERMAN  FOLK-LORE. 

And  the  muttering  grew  to  a  grumbling  ; 
And  the  grumbling  grew  to  a  mighty  rumbling  ; 
And  out  of  the  houses  the  rats  came  tumbling. 
Great  rats,  small  rats,  lean  rats,  brawny  rats, 
Brown  rats,  black  rats,  gray  rats,  tawny  rats, 
Grave  old  plodders,  gay  young  friskers, 

Fathers,  mothers,  uncles,  cousins, 
Cocking  tails,  and  pricking  whiskers, 

Families  by  tens  and  dozens, 
Brothers,  sisters,  husbands,  wives — 
Followed  the  Piper  for  their  lives. 
From  street  to  street  he  piped,  advancing, 
And  step  for  step  they  followed  dancing, 
Until  they  came  to  the  river  Weser, 
Wherein  all  plunged  and  perished ! 
— Save  one,  who,  stout  as  Julius  Caesar, 
Swam  across,  and  lived  to  carry 
(As  he  the  manuscript  he  cherished) 
To  Rat-land  home  his  commentary, 
Which  was,  "At  the  first  shrill  notes  of  the  pipe, 
I  heard  a  sound  as  of  scraping  tripe, 
And  putting  apples  wondrous  ripe 
Into  a  cider  press's  gripe  ; 
And  a  moving  away  of  pickle-tub  boards, 
And  a  leaving  ajar  of  conserve  cupboards, 
And  a  drawing  the  corks  of  train-oil  flasks, 
And  a  breaking  the  hoops  of  butter  casks; 
And  it  seemed  as  if  a  voice 

(Sweeter  far  than  by  harp  or  by  psaltery 
Is  breathed)  called  out :  '  0  rats,  rejoice  ! 

The  world  is  grown  to  one  vast  drysaltery  ! 
So  munch  on,  crunch  on,  take  your  nuncheon, 
Breakfast,  supper,  dinner,  luncheon  ! ' 
And  just  as  a  bulky  sugar-puncheon, 
All  ready  staved,  like  a  great  sun  shone 
Glorious,  scarce  an  inch  before  me, 


TEE  PIED   PIPER   OF  II  AM  EL  IN.         261 

Just  as  methought  it  said,  '  Come,  bore  me  ! ' 
I  found  the  Weser  rolling  o'er  me." 

You  should  have  heard  the  Hamelin  people 
Ringing  the  bells  till  they  rocked  the  steeple  ! 
"  Go,"  cried  the  Mayor,  "and  get  long  poles  ! 
Poke  out  the  nests,  aud  block  up  the  holes  ! 

Consult  with  carpenters  and  builders, 
And  leave  in  our  town  not  even  a  trace 
Of  the  rats  ! "     When  suddenly,  up  the  face 
Of  the  Piper  perched  in  the  market-place, 

With  a  "  First,  if  you  please,  my  thousand  guilders  ! " 

A  thousand  guilders  !     The  Mayor  looked  blue, 

80  did  the  Corporation  too. 

For  council  dinners  made  rare  havoc 

With  Claret,  Moselle,  Vin-de-Grave,  Hock; 

And  half  the  money  would  replenish 

Their  cellar's  biggest  butt  with  Rhenish. 

To  pay  this  sum  to  a,  wandering  fellow 

With  a  gypsy  coat  of  red  and  yellow  ! 

"  Beside,"  quoth  the  Mayor,  with  a  knowing  wink, 

"  Our  business  was  done  at  the  river's  brink  ; 

We  saw  with  our  eyes  the  vermin  sink, 

And  what's  dead  can't  come  to  life,  I  think. 

So,  friend,  we're  not  the  folks  to  shrink 

From  the  duty  of  giving  you  something  for  drink, 

And  a  matter  of  money  to  put  in  your  poke; 

But,  as  for  the  guilders,  what  we  spoke 

Of  them,  as  you  very  well  know,  was  in  joke. 

Beside,  our  losses  have  made  us  thrift  v  : 

A  thousand  guilders!     Come,  take  fifty!" 

The  Piper's  face  fell,  and  he  cried  : 
"No  trifling!     i  can't  waif!     Reside, 
I've  promised  to  visit  by  dinner-time 
Bagdat,  and  accept  the  prime 


262  GERMAN  FOLK-LORE. 

Of  the  Head-Cook's  pottage,  all  he's  rich  in, 
For  having  left  in  the  caliph's  kitchen 
Of  a  nest  of  scorpions  no  survivor. 
With  him  I  proved  no  bargain-driver ; 
With  you,  don't  think  I'll  bate  a  stiver! 
And  folks  who  put  me  in  a  passion 
May  find  me  pipe  to  another  fashion." 

"How?"  cried  the  Mayor,  "d'ye  think  I'll  brook 

Being  worse  treated  than  a  Cook  ? 

Insulted  by  a  lazy  ribald 

With  idle  pipe  and  vesture  piebald? 

You  threaten  us,  fellow?     Do  your  worst; 

Blow  your  pipe  there  till  you  burst ! " 

Once  more  he  stept  into  the  street, 

And  to  his  lips  again 

Laid  his  long  pipe  of  smooth,  straight  cane ; 
And  ere  he  blew  three  notes  (such  sweet, 

Soft  notes  as  yet  musician's  cunning 
Never  gave  the  enraptured  air), 
There  was  a  rustling  that  seemed  like  a  bustling, 
Of  merry  crowds  justling  at  pitching  and  hustling, 
Small  feet  were  pattering,  wooden  shoes  clattering, 
Little  hands  clapping  and  little  tongues  chattering, 
And  like  fowls  in  a  farmyard  when  barley  is  scattering, 

Out  came  the  children  running: 
All  the  little  boys  and  girls, 
With  rosy  cheeks  and  flaxen  curls, 
And  sparkling  eyes  and  teeth  like  pearls, 
Tripping  and  skipping  rati  merrily  after 
The  wonderful  music  with  shouting  and  laughter. 

The  Mayor  was  dumb,  and  the  Council  stood 
As  if  they  were  changed  into  blocks  of  wood, 
Unable  to  move  a  step,  or  cry 
To  the  children  merrily  skipping  by— 
And  could  only  follow  with  the  eye 


THE  PIED  PIPER   OF  HAMELIN.        263 

That  joyous  crowd  at  the  Piper's  back. 

But  how  the  Mayor  was  on  the  rack, 

And  the  wretched  Council's  bosoms  beat, 

As  the  Piper  turned  from  the  High  Street 

To  where  the  Weser  rolled  its  waters 

Right  in  the  way  of  their  sons  and  daughters! 

However,  he  turned  from  south  to  west, 

And  to  Koppelberg  Hill  his  steps  addressed, 

And  after  him  the  children  pressed  ; 

Great  was  the  joy  in  every  breast. 

"  He  never  can  cross  that  mighty  top  ; 

He's  forced  to  let  the  piping  drop, 

And  we  shall  see  our  children  stop  !" 

AY  hen,  lo !  as  they  reached  the  mountain's  side, 

A  wondrous  portal  opened  wide, 

As  if  a  cavern  was  suddenly  hollowed  ; 

And  the  piper  advanced,  and  the  children  followed. 

And  when  all  were  in  to  the  very  last, 

The  door  in  the  mountain  side  shut  fast. 

Did  I  say,  all?     No!     One  was  lame, 

And  could  not  dance  the  whole  of  the  way; 
And  in  after  years  if  you  would  blame 

His  sadness,  he  was  used  to  say  : 
"  It's  dull  in  our  town  since  my  playmates  left! 
I  can't  forget  that  I'm  bereft 
Of  all  the  pleasant  sights  they  see, 
Which  the  Piper  also  promised  me: 
For  he  led  us,  he  -aid,  to  a  joyous  land, 
Joining  the  town  and  just  a!  hand, 
Where  waters  gushed  and  fruit-trees  grew, 
And  flowers  put  forth  a  fairer  I 
Aii'l  everything  was  strange  and  new; 
The  sparrows  \\^w  brighter  than  peacocks  here, 
And  the  d<  in  our  fallow-deer, 

And  honey-bees  had  lost  their  stings, 
And  horse.-:  were  born  with  eagles'  wings; 


264  GERMAN  FOLK-LOBE. 

And  just  as  I  became  assured 

My  lame  foot  would  be  speedily  cured, 

The  music  stopped  and  I  stood  still, 

And  found  myself  outside  the  hill, 

Left  alone  against  my  will, 

To  go  now  limping  as  before, 

And  never  hear  of  that  country  more!" 

Alas  !  alas  for  Hamelin  ! 

There  came  into  many  a  burgher's  pate 
A  text  which  says  that  heaven's  gate 
Opes  to  the  rich  at  as  easy  rate 

As  the  needle's  eye  takes  a  camel  in  ! 

The  Mayor  sent  East,  West,  North,  and  South, 
To  offer  the  Piper  by  word  of  mouth, 

Wherever  it  was  men's  lot  to  find  him, 
Silver  and  gold  to  his  heart's  content, 
If  he'd  only  return  the  way  he  went, 

And  bring  the  children  behind  him. 
But  when  they  saw  'twas  a  lost  endeavor, 
And  Piper  and  dancers  were  gone  forever, 
They  made  a  decree  that  lawyers  never 

Should  think  their  records  dated  duly, 
If,  after  the  day  of  the  month  and  year 
These  words  did  not  as  well  appear : 
"  And  so  long  after  what  happened  here 

On  the  twenty-second  of  July, 
Thirteen  hundred  and  seventy-six  :  " 
And  the  better  in  memory  to  fix 
The  place  of  the  children's  last  retreat, 
They  called  it  the  Pied  Piper's  Street — 
Where  any  one  playing  on  pipe  or  tabor 
Was  sure  for  the  future  to  lose  his  labor. 
Nor  suffered  they  hostelry  or  tavern 

To  shock  with  mirth  a  street  so  solemn  ; 


THE  LORELET.  265 

But  opposite  the  place  of  the  cavern 
They  wrote  the  story  on  a  column, 
And  on  the  great  church  window  painted 
The  same,  to  make  the  world  acquainted 
How  their  children  were  stolen  away; 
And  there  it  stands  to  this  very  day. 
And  I  must  not  omit  to  say 
That  in  Transylvania  there's  a  tribe 
Of  alien  people,  who  ascribe 
The  outlandish  ways  and  dress 
On  which  their  neighbors  lay  such  stress, 
To  their  fathers  and  mothers  having  risen 
Out  of  some  subterraneous  prison 
Into  which  they  were  trepanned 
Long  time  ago  in  a  mighty  band, 
Out  of  Ilamelin  town  in  Brunswick  land, 
But  how  or  why,  they  don't  understand. 

So,  Willy,  let  me  and  you  be  wipers 

Of  scores  out  with  all  men — especially  pipers! 

And  whether  they  pipe  us  free  From  rats  or  from  mice, 

If  we've  promised  them  aught,  let  us  keep  our  promise. 


THE    LORELEY. 

BY   HEINRICH    HEINE. 
(TRANSLATED   BY    K.    SILCHER.) 

On,  tell  me  what  it  meaneth, 

This  gloom  and  tearful  eye  ? 
'Tis  memory  that  retaineth 

The  tale  of  years  gone  by. 
The  fading  light  grows  dimmer, 

The  Rhine  doth  calmly  How  ! 
The  lofty  hill-tops  glimmer 

Red  with  the  sunset  glow. 


266  GERMAN  FOLK-LORE. 

Above,  the  maiden  sitteth, 

A  wondrous  form  and  fair  ; 
With  jewels  bright  she  plaiteth 

Her  shining  golden  hair  : 
With  comb  of  gold  prepares  it, 

The  task  with  song  beguiled  ; 
A  fitful  burden  bears  it — 

That  melody  so  wild. 

The  boatman  on  the  river 

Lists  to  the  song,  spellbound  ; 
Oh,  what  shall  him  deliver 

From  danger  threatening  round  ? 
The  waters  deep  have  caught  them, 

Both  boat  and  boatman  brave  ; 
'Tis  Loreley's  song  hath  brought  them 

Beneath  the  foaming  wave. 


HINDU   FOLK-LORE. 

The  gods  of  the  early  Hindus  were  many.  One  of  the 
earlier  Vedic  poets  enumerated  thirty-three.  A  later  poet 
places  the  number  at  three  thousand  three  hundred  and 
thirty-nine.  Of  these  only  a  few  of  the  more  noted  can  be 
mentioned  here. 

The  historic  Budbha,  Prince  Siddartha,  or  Gautama,  was 
a  great  reformer,  who  lived  about  five  centuries  before  Christ. 
His  teachings  did  not  take  deep  root  in  his  own  country. 
His  followers  were  driven  to  Ceylon,  from  which  place  the 
newer  faith  was  propagated  in  China,  and  generally  through 
eastern  Asia,  where  it  has  degenerated  into  a  debasing  super- 
stition. 

Nor  did  the  Mohammedan  whirlwind  succeed  in  over- 
throwing the  ancient  faith  of  the  Brahmans.  They  to-day 
retain  their  old  beliefs,  little  modified  in  the  course  of  many 
centuries. 

The  student  of  Hindu  mythology,  as  set  forth  in  the 
sacred  writings  of  India,  will  be  puzzled  to  find  that  a  large 
number  of  the  gods  are  addressed  individually,  each  as 
supreme,  while  the  absence  of  any  scale  of  comparison  renders 
it  difficult  to  say  which  is  to  be  considered  the  greatest. 

It  is  claimed  that  Brahma,  the  author  of  the  universe, 
Vishnu,  the  preserver,  and  Siva,  or  Seva,  the  destroyer, were 
originally  considered  bui  different  manifestations  of  the  one 
Supreme  Being.  Certainly  this  is  the  way  in  which  they  are 
now  regarded. 

So  wisely  taught  the  Indian  Beer  ; 
I'    troying  Seva,  forming  Brahm, 


268  HINDU  FOLK-LOBE. 

Who  wake  by  turns  Earth's  love  and  fear, 
Are  one,  the  same. 

Take  heart ;  the  Waster  builds  again — 

A  charmed  life  old  goodness  hath  ; 
The  tares  may  perish,  but  the  grain 

Is  not  for  death. 

—  WMttier's  "The  Reformer." 

Brahma,  the  creator,  is  represented  as  a  crowned,  four- 
faced,  and  four-handed  human  figure. 

-     Vishnu,  the  preserver,  is  portrayed  as  a  four-handed  per- 
sonage, wearing  a  tall  crown. 

Siva,  similar  to  the  last  named,  is  armed  with  a  trident. 

The  Trimurti  is  a  representation  of  the  Hindu  Trinity 
— a  combination  of  three  heads  and  a  single  figure. 

The  Avatars  of  Vishnu  are  the  incarnations  of  the 
Divine  Spirit  on  the  earth.  Of  these  there  have  been  nine, 
among  which  Rama,  Krishna,  and  Buddha  are  reckoned. 
There  is  to  be  yet  one  more  incarnation,  when  Vishnu  will 
appear,  in  the  form  of  a  winged  horse,  and  the  world  will 
come  to  an  end. 

N1  arayana,  the  god  of  the  seas,  the  mover  of  the  waters, 
is  the  recipient  of  the  greatest  number  of  prayers  of  the  old 
time,  as  preserved  in  the  sacred  books. 

Indra  also  holds  a  very  high  rank  among  the  gods.  He 
wields  the  thunderbolts,  and  sends  the  rains  and  the  winds. 

Ganesa,  the  son  of  Siva,  is  the  god  of  wisdom.  He  has 
an  elephant's  head,  and  is  attended  by  an  enormous  rat. 

Yama,  or  Yemen,  is  the  death-god,  judging  the  departed 
souls  of  men,  and  consigning  the  wicked  to  punishment  in 
the  serpent  den  of  Naraka,  while  the  good  are  sent  to  bliss 
in  Svarga,  the  better  world. 

Engha  is  the  boatman  who  transports  the  soul  to 
paradise. 

Agxi,  the  god  of  fire,  is  invoked  for  vengeance  in  war. 

Karttikeya,  the  god  of  war,  is  depicted  as  riding  upon 
a  peacock,  and  nourishing  weapons  in  his  numerous  hands. 


IILYDU  FOLK-LORE.  269 

Kamadeva,  bearing  his  bow,  like  Cupid,  is  the  god  of 
love. 

Sheshanaga  is  a  terrible  black  being,  the  king  of  ser- 
pents. He  has  a  thousand  crowned  heads,  with  luminous 
eyes. 

Si  i;v  \,  the  sun,  appears  in  an  equipage  drawn  by  green 
horses  driven  by  Aran,  the  light  of  morning. 

Chandra,  the  moon,  is  a  male  figure,  likewise  drawn  in 
a  chariot,  though  its  steeds  are  generally  antelopes. 

Kastapa  is  addressed  in  very  ancient  hymns  as  the  god 
of  the  skies.  Numerous  divinities  of  lower  rank  are  men- 
tioned as  his  offspring. 

Pavan  is  the  god  of  the  winds. 

Agnastra  is  the  maker  of  the  arrows  of  the  gods. 

KuBERA  is  the  god  of  riches. 

DtJRGA,  the  consort  of  Brahma,  is  a  character  of  heroic 
virtue,  and  is  represented  as  overcoming  giants  and  demons 
of  hideous  and  terrific  form.  She  is  more  popularly  known 
as  Saraswati. 

Mahishasura  is  an  impersonation  of  vice,  and  is  repre- 
sented as  vanquished  by  Durga,  the  two  being  employed  as 
symbols  expressive  of  the  moral  conflict  between  good  and 
evil. 

Parvati,  the  consort  of  Siva,  is  worshiped  with  disgust- 
ing rites  of  a  depraved  character. 

Laksiimi,  the  consort  of  Vishnu,  is  the  patroness  of  agri- 
culture, the  emblem  of  abundance  and  fertility. 

Maritale  is  the  patroness  of  the  pariahs  or  outcasts. 

Daiiana  is  tli"  beautiful  goddess  of  the  dawn. 

A  mil  is  the  consorl  of  Kasyapa. 

Sita  is  the  consort  of  the  Avatar  Rama. 

Bayaderes  are  dancing  girls  of  India.  An  old  legend 
of  the  Bixth  Avatar  relate-;  the  redemption  of  a  dissolute  girl 
of  this  class.  It  is  the  subject  of  a  poem  by  Goethe,  and  of 
the  opera  by  Auber,  entitled  The  God  and  the  Bayadere. 

.1  \c.\  \  \  aim,  Juggernaut,  or  Jaga-naut   ("Lord    of  the 


270  HINDU  FOLK-LORE. 

World "),  is  an  idol  in  the  most  celebrated  of  the  Hindu 
temples — that  of  Orissa.  His  carriage,  of  pyramid  form,  is 
two  hundred  feet  high.  This  is  drawn  through  the  streets 
on  certain  occasions  by  means  of  ropes  grasped  by  great 
multitudes  of  pilgrims.  In  the  press  and  excitement  many 
have  fallen  under  the  fatal  wheels  and  have  been  crushed  to 
death.  The  popular  opinion  that  these  were  voluntary  vic- 
tims, seeking  eternal  life  through  self-immolation,  is  declared 
to  be  erroneous. 

From  ancient  times  the  Brahmans  have  taught  the  doc- 
trine of  metempsychosis,  or  the  transmigration  of  souls.  Be- 
lieving that  the  human  soul  passes  from  one  bodily  form  to 
another,  in  all  the  range  of  the  animal  creation,  the  Hindus 
refrain  from  the  use  of  flesh  as  food.  They  hold  that  the 
baser  characters  reappear  in  the  lower  animal  forms,  as  a 
punishment  for  their  sins,  and  that  the  basest  are  sometimes 
even  imprisoned  in  vegetable  or  mineral  forms.  The  final 
reward  of  the  good  is  held  to  be  their  absorption  into  the 
divine  soul  of  the  universe,  "  as  the  water  returns  to  the 
ocean."  Buddha,  it  is  said,  "previously  existed  in  four  hun- 
dred millions  of  worlds.  During  these  successive  trans- 
migrations he  was  almost  every  sort  of  fish,  fly,  animal, 
and  man.  He  had  acquired  such  a  sanctity,  millions  of 
centuries  before,  as  to  permit  him  to  enter  Nirvana,  but  he 
preferred  to  endure  the  curse  of  existence  in  order  to  benefit 
the  race." 

Discarding  the  old  doctrine  that  the  soul  is  at  death  ab- 
sorbed into  Brahma,  Buddha  taught  that  man  passes  from 
life  into  the  dreamless,  unbroken  rest  of  Nirvana — a  practical 
annihilation.  Much  has  been  written  and  said  concerning 
the  Buddhistic  extinction  of  desire.  To  the  Christian  and 
the  Mohammedan  alike  it  is  well-nigh  incomprehensible  that 
a  mere  release  from  existence  should  be  esteemed  the  highest 
good.  Nevertheless,  Nirvana  the  Blest  is  the  anticipated 
goal  of  a  third  of  the  human  race.  Of  these  hundreds  of 
millions  a  faithful  thanatopsis  is  expressed  in  the  stanzas : 


NOTES   OF  LITERATURE.  27  1 

Methinks  I  sink  with  rapture — 

A  rapture  veiled  and  intense, 
Into  an  infinite  ocean, 

Ingulfing  both  soul  and  sense, 
With  a  deep,  luxurious  oblivion 

Of  why  and  whither  and  whence. 

Lo,  hoary  at  birth  and  weary, 

And  heir  to  the  world's  long  woe. 
I  cry  through  the  murky  abysses, 

Where  wandering  planets  glow, 
And  my  voice,  with  hollow  resounding, 

Re-echoes  above  and  below. 

0  God,  0  why  hast  thou  kindled 

This  passing  fever  of  life — 
These  flaming  thoughts  that  wrestle 

And  writhe  in  eternal  strife — 
This  fury  of  fret  and  ferment. 

And  wars  of  tongue  and  knife? 

Nay.  rather  in  sleep  and  silence 

Enshrined,  1  fain  would  rest, 
In  deep,  inexhaustible  slumber, 

On  Nature's  ample  breas  i. 
And  swoon,  in  the  dusk  of  the  evening. 

Into  Nirvana  the  Blest. 
— Hjalmar  Hj'orth  Boyesen's  "Nirvana  tin  Blest." 

The  Hindus,  are  divided  into  four  castes— the  priests, 
the  Boldiers,  the  fanners  and  traders,  and  the  laborers.  The 
men  of  no  caste  al  nil  an-  the  despised  pariahs.  The  priests 
hold  the  highest  place  of  influence  and  authority. 

STOTE8    OF    LITERATURE    RELATING    TO    BINDTJ    FOLK-LORE. 

The  literature  of  ancienl  India  hi  to  the  general  No- 

tice of  Europeans  by  Hi''  noted  Orientalist  Sir  William  Jones,  who 
founded  the  Asiatic  Society  more  than  a  century  ago. 

The  mosl  ancienl  of  Sanskrit  writings  is  the  Rig-Veda,]  .-i  eollection 


i  [  do  ao\  wish  by  what  I  have  Baid  to  n  ttiona  as 

to  the  worth  of  these  an  ienthymn    of  thi   Veda,  and  the  ehaffldter  of  that  re- 
ligion which  theyindicate  rather  than  fully  desoribe.    The  ffistorical  impor- 


272  HINDU  FOLK-LORE. 

of  hymns — some  of  great  beauty — addressed  to  the  gods.  These  belong 
to  a  period  antecedent  to  the  doctrine  of  metempsychosis  and  the  insti- 
tution of  caste. 

The  Purdnas,  more  recent  than  the  Vedic  hymns,  are  supposed  to  be 
equally  inspired.     They  contain  the  ancient  mythology  of  the  Hindus. 

The  Code  of  Manu  is  a  metrical  summary  of  the  moral  law.  said  to 
have  been  delivered  through  fourteen  successive  seers  of  that  name.  The 
two  great  epics  of  the  Sanskrit  are  the  Ra/mayana  and  the  Mahdbhai  ata, 
the  Iliad  and  the  Odyssey  of  India.  The  first  of  these  relates  the  ca- 
reer of  Rama.  The  second  describes  a  conflict  about  the  old  city  of 
Delhi.     Valmiki  and  Vyasa  are  the  respective  authors. 

King  Nala  and  his  bride,  Damayanti,  are  the  hero  and  heroine  of 
one  of  the  most  notable  episodes  of  the  Mahdbharata,  which  has  been 
translated  into  English  by  Sir  Edwin  Arnold. 

The  Otttagovinda,  of  Jayadeva,  is  an  idyllic  poem  relating  the  career 
of  Krishna,  who  is  here  called  Govinda. 

Kalidasa  was  the  great  dramatist  of  Indian  literature,  and  the  JSa- 
koonfald  is  his  most  famous  drama. 

Of  the  Buddhistic  sacred  writings,  the  Dhammapada  is  supposed  to 
contain  the  discourses  of  Buddha  himself.  Among  its  four  hundred  and 
twenty-four  verses  are  the  following  : 

"Reflection  is  the  path  of  immortality,  thoughtlessness  the  path  of 
death.  Those  who  reflect  do  not  die:  those  who  are  thoughtless  are  as 
if  dead  already. 

"  The  wise  people,  meditative,  steady,  always  possessed  of  strong 
powers,  attain  to  Nirvana,  the  highest  happiness. 

"Knowing  that  this  body  is  fragile  like  a  jar,  and  making  this 
thought  firm  like  a  fortress,  one  should  attack  Marac  (the  tempter)  with 
the  weapon  of  knowledge;  one  should  watch  him  when  conquered,  and 
should  never  cease  from  the  fight." 

Southey's  poem,  The  Curse  of  Kehama,  relates  the  story  of  a  Hindu 
rajah  who  obtains  and  exercises  supernatural  powers.1     It  portrays  the 


tance  of  tho  Veda  can  hardly  be  exaggerated  ;  but  its  intrinsic  merit,  and  par- 
ticularly the  beauty  or  elevation  of  its  sentiments,  have  by  many  been  rated  far 
too  high.  Large  numbers  of  the  Vedie  hymns  are  childish  in  the  extreme- 
tedious,  low,  commonplace.  .  .  .  But  hidden  in  this  rubbish  there  are  precious 
stones. — Max  Mutter's  "  Chips  from  a  German  WorTcsJtiOp" 

1  In  the  religion  of  the  Hindus,  which  of  all  false  religions  is  the  most  mon- 
strous in  its  fables,  and  the  most  fatal  in  its  effects,  there  is  one  remarkable  pe- 
culiarity. Prayers,  penances,  and  sacrifices  are  supposed  to  possess  an  inherent 
and  actual  value,  in  no  degree  depending  upon  the  disposition  or  motive  of  the 


NOTES  OF  LITERATURE.  273 

strange  and  bewildering  forms  of  the  Hindu  Pantheon,  and  reproduces 
much  of  the  exaggerated  and  fantastic  imagery  characteristic  of  the 
Sanskrit  epics. 

To  English  and  American  readers  by  far  the  best  known  composi- 
tion relating  to  Buddha  is  The  Light  of  Asia,  by  Sir  Edwin  Arnold, 
in  which  the  life  of  Prince  Sid  dart  ha  is  related  in  verse,  from  the  stand- 
point of  an  Indian  Buddhist.  Oliver  Wendell  Holmes  saysof  this  poem, 
•'  Its  tone  is  so  lofty  that  there  is  nothing  with  which  to  compare  it  but 
the  New  Testament." 

Since  it  is  not  a  translation,  but  an  original  poem,  the  author  has 
exercised  the  largest  liberty  in  his  selection  and  in  his  coloring  of  the 
scenes  in  the  life  of  the  great  Buddha;  and  critics  differ  as  to  the 
historical  and  philosophical  value  of  the  poem.  It  is  a  succession  of 
beautiful  pictures  of  a  beautiful  life.  The  resolve  of  the  prince,  as  he 
impressed  his  last  kiss  upon  his  sleeping  wife  and  babes,  is  thus  de- 
scribed : 

"  I  will  depart,"  he  spake;  "  the  hour  is  come; 
Thy  tender  lips,  dear  sleeper,  summon  me 
To  that  which  saves  the  earth,  but  sunders  us; 
And  in  the,  silence  of  yon  sky  I  read 
My  fatal  message  flashing.     Unto  this 
Came  I,  and  unto  this  all  nights  and  days 
Have  led  in";  for  I  will  not  have  that  crown 
Which  may  \»-  mine:   I  lay  aside  those  realms 
Which  w.iii  the  gleaming  of  my  naked  sword; 
My  chariol  shall  not  roll  with  bloody  wheels 
From  victory  to  victory  till  earth 
Wears  (he  red  record  of  my  name.     I  choose 
To  trend  its  path  with  patient,  stainless  feet, 
Making  its  dust,  my'bed,  its  loneliest  wastes 
My  dwelling,  and  its  meanest  things  my  mates; 
Clad  in  no  prouder  garb  than  outcasts  wear, 
Fed  with  no  meats  save  what  the  charitable 
Give  of  (heir  wiil,  sheltered  by  no  more  pomp 
Than  the  dim  cave  lends,  or  the  jungle-bush. 
This  will  I  do  because  the  woful  cry 
Of  life  and  all  flesh  living  cometh  up 
Into  my  ears,  and  all  my  soul  is  full 
Of  pity  for  the  sickness  of  this  world  ; 
Which  I  will  heal,  if  healing  may  lie  found 
By  uttermosl  renouncing  and  strong  strife." 

Arnold's  "  Light  of  Asia." 

person  who  performs  them.    They  are  drafl    upon  Heaven,  for  which  tl 
cannot  refuse  payment.    The  worst  men,  bent  upon  the  worst  designs,  have  in 
inner  obtained  power  which  has  made  them  formidable  to  Die  supreme 
deities  themselves,  and  rendered  an  avatar,  <>r  incarnation  of  Vishnu,  the  Pre- 
server, i  Hobi  >/  ShuIIk  ij. 

FOLK-LORE   18 


274  HINDU  FOLK-LORE. 

NALA   AND    DAMAYANTI. 

(TRANSLATED   BY    SIR   EDWIN   ARNOLD    FROM    THE    MAHABHARATA.) 

A  Prince  there  was,  named  Nala,  Virasen's  noble  breed, 

Goodly  to  see,  and  virtuous ;  a  tamer  of  the  steed ; 

As  Indra  'midst  the  gods,  so  he  of  kings  was  kingliest  one, 

Sovereign  of  men,  and  splendid  as  the  golden,  glittering  sun ; 

Pure,  knowing  scripture,  gallant ;  ruling  nobly  Nishadh's 
lands; 

Dice-loving,  but  a  proud,  true  chief  of  her  embattled  bands  ; 

By  lovely  ladies  lauded  ;  free,  trained  in  self-control ; 

A  shield  and  bow  ;  a  Manu  on  earth  ;  a  royal  soul ! 

And  in  Vidarbha's  city  the  Raja  Bhima  dwelled  ; 

Save  offspring,  from  his  perfect  bliss  no  blessing  was  with- 
held ; 

For  offspring,  many  a  pious  rite  full  patiently  he  wrought, 

Till  Damana  the  Brahman  unto  his  house  was  brought. 

Him  Bhima,  ever  reverent,  did  courteously  entreat, 

Within  the  Queen's  pavilion  led  him,  to  rest  and  eat; 

Whereby  that  sage,  grown  grateful,  gave  her— for  joy  of 
joys— 

A  girl,  the  gem  of  girlhood,  and  three  brave,  lusty  boys — 

Damana,  Dama,  Danta,  their  names  ; — Damayanti  she  ; 

No  daughter  more  delightful,  no  sons  could  goodlier  be. 

Stately  and  bright  and  beautiful  did  Damayanti  grow  ; 
No  land  there  was  which  did  not  the  Slender-waisted  know; 
A  hundred  slaves  her  fair  form  decked  with  robe  and  orna- 
ment ; 
Like  Sachi's  self  to  serve  her  a  hundred  virgins  bent; 
And  'midst  them  Bhima's  daughter,  in  peerless  glory  dight, 
Gleamed  as  the  lightning  glitters  against  the  murk  of  night; 
Having  the  eyes  of  Lakshmi,  long-lidded,  black,  and  bright: 
Nay — never  gods,  nor  Yakshas,  nor  mortal  men  among 


NALA  AND  BAM  AY  AN  TL  275 

Was  one  so  rare  arid  radiant  e'er  seen,  or  sued,  or  sung 
As  she,  the  heart-consuming,  in  heaven  itself  desired. 

And  Nala,  too,  of  princes  the  Tiger-Prince,  admired 

Like  Kama  was  ;  in  beauty  an  embodied  lord  of  love : 

And  ofttimes  Nala  praised  they  all  other  chiefs  above 

In  Damayanti's  hearing  ;  and  oftentimes  to  him 

With  worship  and  with  wonder  her  beauty  they  would  limn; 

So  that,  unmet,  unknowing,  unseen,  in  each  for  each 

A  tender  thought  of  longing  grew  up  from  seed  of  speech  ; 

And  love  (thou  son  of  Kunti !)  those  gentle  hearts  did  reach. 


Thus  Nala — hardly  bearing  in  his  heart 
Such  longing — wandered  in  his  palace-woods, 
And  marked  some  water-birds,  with  painted  plumes, 
Disporting.     One,  by  stealthy  stops,  he  seized  ; 
But  the  sky-traveler  spake  to  Nala  this  : 
"  Kill  me  not,  Prince,  and  I  will  serve  thee  well. 
For  I,  in  Damayanti's  car,  will  say 
Such  good  of  Nishadh's  lord,  that  nevermore 
Shall  thought  of  man  possess  her,  save  of  thee." 

Thereat  the  Prince  gladly  gave  liberty 
'I'.,  his  sofi  prisoner,  and  all  the  swans 
Flew,  clanging,  to  Vidarbha — a  bright  flock — 
Straight  to  Vidarbha,  where  the  Princess  walked; 
And  there,  beneath  her  eyi  s,  those  winged  ones 
Lighted.     She  saw  them  sail  to  earth,  and  marked — 
Sitting  amid  her  maids — their  graceful  forms; 
W  Idle  those  For  wantonness  'gan  chase  the  swans, 
Which  fluttered  this  and  that  way  through  the  grove 
Each  girl  with  tripping  feel  her  bird  pursued, 
And  Damayanti,  laughing,  followed  hers; 
Till  —at  the  point  to  grasp     the  lh  ing  prey 
Deftly  eluding  touch,  .-pake  as  men  speak, 
Addressing  Bhima's  daughter: — 


276  HINDU  FOLK-LORE. 

"  Lady  dear ! 
Loveliest  Damayanti !  Nala  dwells 
In  near  Nishadha  :  oh,  a  noble  Prince, 
Not  to  be  matched  of  men  ;  an  Aswin  he, 
For  goodliness.     Incomparable  maid  ! 
Wert  thou  but  wife  to  that  surpassing  chief, 
Rich  would  the  fruit  grow  from  such  lordly  birth, 
Such  peerless  beauty.     Slender- waisted  one, 
Gods,  men,  and  Gandharvas  have  we  beheld, 
But  never  one  among  them  like  to  him. 
As  thou  art  pearl  of  princesses,  so  he 
Is  crown  of  princes  ;  happy  would  it  fall, 
One  such  perfection  should  another  weil" 

And  when  she  heard  that  bird  (0  King  of  men  !), 
The  Princess  answered  :  "  Go,  dear  swan,  and  tell 
This  same  to  Nala  "  ;  and  the  egg-bom  said, 
"  I  go  "  ;  and  flew  ;  and  told  the  Prince  of  all. 


But  Damayanti,  having  heard  the  bird, 
Lived  fancy-free  no  more  ;  by  Nala's  side 
Her  soul  dwelt,  while  she  sat  at  home  distraught, 
Mournful  and  wan,  sighing  the  hours  away, 
With  eyes  upcast,  and  passion-laden  looks ; 
So  that,  eftsoons,  her  limbs  failed,  and  her  mind— 
With  love  o'erweigh ted— found  no  rest  in  sleep, 
No  grace  in  company,  no  joy  at  feasts. 
Nor  night  nor  day  brought  peace  ;  always  she  heaved 
Sigh  upon  sigh,  till  all  her  maidens  knew — 
By  glance  and  mien  and  moan— how  changed  she  was, 
Her  own  sweet  self  no  more.     Then  to.  the  King 
They  told  how  Damayanti  loved  the  Prince. 
Which  thing  when  Bhima  from  her  maidens  heard, 
Deep  pondering  for  his  child  what  should  be  done, 
And  why  the  Princess  was  beside  herself, 


MALA  AMD  DAM  AY  ANT  I.  277 

That  lord  of  lands  perceived  his  daughter  grown, 
And  knew  that  for  her  high  Swayamvara 
The  time  was  come. 

So,  to  the  Rajas  all 
The  King  sent  word  :  "  Ye  Lords  of  Earth,  attend 
Of  Damayanti  the  Swayamvara." 
And  when  these  learned  of  her  Swayamvara, 
Obeying  Bhima,  to  his  court  they  thronged — 
Elephants,  horses,  cars — over  the  land 
In  full  files  wending,  bearing  flags  and  wreaths 
Of  countless  hues,  with  gallant  companies 
Of  fighting  men.     And  those  high-hearted  chiefs 
The  strong-armed  King  welcomed  with  worship  fair, 
As  fitted  each,  and  led  them  to  their  seats. 

Now  at  that  hour  there  passed  towards  Indra's  heaven, 
Thither  from  earth  ascending,  those  twain  saints — 
The  wise,  the  pure,  the  mighty-minded  ones, 
The  self-restrained — Narad  and  Parvata. 
The  mansion  of  the  Sovereign  of  the  Gods 
In  honor  entered  they;  and  he,  the  Lord 
Of  Clouds,  dread  Indra,  softly  them  salutes, 
Enquiring  of  their  weal,  and  of  the  world 
Where  through  their  name  was  famous,  how  it  fares. 

Then  NTarad  said  :  "  Well  is  it,  Lord  of  Gods, 
Willi  us,  and  with  our  world  ;  and  well  with  those 
Who  rule  the  peoples,  0  thou  King  in  Heaven  !" 

But  He  that  slew  the  Demons  spake  agaiu  : 
"The  princes  of  the  earth,  just-minded,  brave, 
Those  who,  in  battle  fearing  nut  to  fall, 
See  death  OB  the  descending  blade,  and  charge 
Full  front  against  it,  turning  not,  their  face — 
Theirs  is  this  realm  eternal,  as  to  me 
The  cow  of  plenty,  Kamadhnk,  belongs. 


278  HINDU  FOLK-LORE. 

Where  be  my  Kshatriya  warriors  ?    Wherefore  now 
See  I  none  coming  of  those  slaughtered  lords, 
Chiefs  of  mankind,  our  always  honored  guests?" 

And  unto  Indra  Narad  gave  reply  : 
"  King  of  the  Air  !  no  wars  are  waged  below  ; 
None  fall  in  tight,  to  enter  here.     The  Lord 
Of  high  Vidarbha  hath  a  daughter,  famed 
For  loveliness  beyond  all  earthly  maids, 
The  Princess  Damayanti,  far-renowned. 
Of  her,  dread  Sakra!  the  Swayamvara 
Shall  soon  befall,  and  thither  now  repair 
The  kings  and  princes  of  all  lands,  to  woo— 
Each  for  himself — this  pearl  of  womanhood. 
For  oh,  thou  Slayer  of  the  Demons,  all 
Desire  the  maid." 

Drew  round,  while  Narad  spake, 
The  Masters,  th'  Immortals,  pressing  in 
With  Agni  and  the  Greatest,  near  the  throne, 
To  listen  to  the  speech  of  Narada ; 
Whom  having  heard,  all  cried  delightedly, 
"  We,  too,  will  go."     Thereupon  those  high  gods, 
With  chariots,  and  with  heavenly  retinues, 
Sped  to  Vidarbha,  where  the  kings  were  met. 
And  Nala,  knowing  of  this  kingly  tryst, 
Went  thither  joyous,  heart-full  with  the  thought 
Of  Damayanti. 

Thus  it  chanced  the  gods 
Beheld  the  Prince  wending  along  his  road, 
Goodly  of  mien,  as  is  the  Lord  of  Love. 
The  world's  Protectors  saw  him,  like  a  sun 
For  splendor ;  and  in  very  wonder,  paused 
Some  time  irresolute,  so  fair  he  was ; 
Then  in  mid-sky  their  golden  chariots  stayed, 
And  through  the  clouds  descending  called  to  him : 


JVALA  AND  DAM  AY  ANT  I.  279 

"  Bho !  Nala  of  Nishadha !     Noblest  Prince, 
Be  herald  for  us ;  bear  our  message  now." 


"  Yea  !  "  Xala  made  reply,  "  this  will  I  do  "  ; 
And  then — palm  unto  palm  in  reverence  pressed — 
Asked  :  '•  Shining  Ones,  who  are  ye?     Unto  whom, 
And  what  words  bearing,  will  ye  that  I  go? 
Deign  to  instruct  me  what  it  is  ye  bid." 
Thus  the  Prince  spake,  and  Indra  answered  him  : 
"  Thou  seest  th'  immortal  gods.     Indra  am  I, 
And  this  is  Agni,  and  the  other  here, 
Varuna,  Lord  of  Waters;  and  beyond, 
Yuma,  the  King  of  Death,  who  parteth  souls 
From  mortal  frames.     To  Damayanti  go ; 
Tell  our  approach.     Say  this  :  '  The  world's  dread  lords, 
Wishful  to  see  thee,  come  ;  desiring  thee— 
Indra,  Varuna,  Agni,  Yama,  all. 

Choose  of  these  powers  to  which  thou  wilt  be  given.'" 
But  Nala,  hearing  that,  joined  palms  again, 
And  cried  :  k-  Ah,  send  me  not,  with  one  accord 
For  this  most  mighty  Gods!     How  should  a  man 
Sue  for  another,  being  suitor  too? 
How  bear  such  errand  ?     Have  compassion,  Cods!" 

Then  Bpake  they:  "  Yet  thou  saidst,  'This  shall  I  do,' 
Nishadba's  Prince!  and  wilt  thou  do  it  not, 
Forswearing  faith  ?     Nay,  hut  depart,  and  soon  !" 

So  hid,  but  lingering  vet  again,  he  said  : 
"Well  guarded  are  the  gates;  how  shall  1  find 

Speech  with  her?" 

"  Thou  shall  find,"  Indra,  replied. 
And,  lo!    upon  that  word    Xala   was  brought 

To  Damayanti's  chamber.  There  he  saw 
Vidarbha's  glory,  sitting  'mid  her  maids, 
In  majesty  and  grace  surpai   in::  all ; 


280  HINDU  FOLK-LORE. 

So  exquisite,  so  delicate  of  form, 

Waist  so  fine  turned,  such  limbs,  such  lighted  eyes, 

The  moon  hath  meaner  radiance  than  she. 

Love  at  the  sight  of  that  soft  smiling  face 

Sprang  to  full  passion,  while  he  stood  and  gazed. 

Yet,  faith  and  duty  urging,  he  restrained 

His  beating  heart ;  but  when  those  beauteous  maids 

Spied  Nala,  from  their  cushions  they  uprose, 

Startled  to  see  a  man,  yet  startled  more 

Because  he  showed  so  heavenly  bright  and  fair. 

In  wondering  pleasure  each  saluted  him, 

Uttering  no  sound,  but  murmuring  to  themselves  : 

"  Aho  !  the  grace  of  him  ;  aho  !  the  brilliance  ; 

Aho  !  what  glorious  strength  lives  in  his  limbs  ! 

What  is  he?     Is  he  God,  Gandharva,  YakshaV  " 

But  this  unspoken,  for  they  dared  not  breathe 

One  syllable,  all  standing  shyly  there 

To  see  him,  and  to  see  his  youth  so  sweet. 

Yet,  softly  glancing  back  to  his  soft  glance, 

The  Princess,  presently,  with  fluttering  breath, 

Accosted  Nala,  saying  :  "  Fairest  Prince, 

Who  by  thy  faultless  form  hath  filled  my  heart 

With  sudden  joy,  coming  as  come  the  gods, 

Unstayed,  I  crave  to  know  thee,  who  thou  art ; 

How  didst  thou  enter  ?  how  wert  thou  unseen '? 

Our  palace  is  close-guarded,  and  the  King 

Hath  issued  mandates  stern." 

Tenderly  spake 
The  Prince,  replying  to  those  tender  words : 
"  Most  lovely  !  I  am  Nala.     I  am  come- 
A  herald  of  the  gods  unto  thee  here. 
The  gods  desire  thee,  the  immortal  Four — 
Indra,  Varnna,  Yama,  Agni.     Choose, 
0  Brightest !  one  from  these  to  be  thy  lord. 
By  their  help  is  it  I  have  entered  in 


MALA  AMD  DAMATAjYTI.  281 

Unseen  ;  none  could  behold  me  at  thy  gates, 
Nor  stay  me,  passing  ;  aud  to  speak  their  will 
They  sent  me,  fairest  one  and  best.     Do  thou, 
Knowing  the  message,  judge  as  seemeth  well." 


She  bowed  her  head,  hearing  the  great  gods  named, 
And  then,  divinely  smiling,  said  to  him  : 
"  Pledge  thyself  faithfully  to  me,  and  I 
Will  seek,  0  Raja,  only  how  to  pay 
That  debt  with  all  I  am,  with  all  I  have ; 
For  I  and  mine  are  thine— in  full  trust  thine. 
Make  me  that  promise,  Prince.     Thy  gentle  name- 
Sung  by  the  swan— first  set  my  thoughts  afire; 
And  for  thy  sake— only  for  thee— sweet  Lord, 
The  kings  were  summoned  hither.     If,  alas  ! 
Fair  Prince,  thou  dost  reject  my  sudden  love, 
So  proffered,  then  must  poison,  flame,  or  Hood, 
Or  knitted  cord,  lie  my  sad  remedy." 

So  spake  Vidarbha's  Pride;  and  Nala  said  : 
"With  gods  so  waiting—  with  the  world's  dread  lords 
Hastening  to  woo,  canst  thou  desire  a  man? 
Bethink  !     I,  unto  these,  that  make  and  mar, 
These  all-wise  ones,  almighty,  am  like  dust 
CTnder  their  feel  :  lift  thy  hear!  to  the  height 
Of  what  1  bring.      11'  mortal  man  off<  nd 
'Idie  most  high  gods,  death  is  what  springs  of  it. 
Spare  me  to  live,  thou  faultless  lady  !      Choose 
Which  of  these  excelleni  great  gods  thou  will  ; 
Wear  the  unstained  robes  !  hear  on  thy  brows 
The  wreaths  which  never  fade,  of  heavenly  blooms  ! 
Be,  as  thou  mayst,  a  goddess,  and  enjoy 
Godlike  delights !     Him  who  infold,-  the  earth, 
Creating  and  consuming,  Brightest  Power, 
Hutasa,  Eater  of  the  Sacrifice, 
What  woman  would  not  take?     Or  him  whose  rod 


282  HINDU  FOLK- LOBE. 

Herds  all  the  generations  forward  still 

On  virtue's  path,  Red  Yaraa,  King  of  Death, 

"What  woman  would  affront  V     Or  him,  the  all-good, 

All- wise  destroyer  of  the  Demons,  first 

In  heaven,  Mahendra — who  of  womankind 

Is  there  that  would  not  wed  ?     Or,  if  thy  mind 

Incline,  doubt  not  to  choose  Varuna  ;  he 

Is  of  these  world-protectors.     From  a  heart 

Full  friendly  cometh  what  I  tell  thee  now." 

Unto  Nishadha's  Prince  the  maid  replied — 
Tears  of  distress  dimming  her  lustrous  eyes  : 
"  Humbly  I  reverence  these  mighty  gods; 
But  thee  I  choose,  and  thee  I  take  for  lord ; 
And  this  I  vow  !  " 

With  folded  palms  she  stood, 
And  trembling  lips,  while  his  faint  answer  fell : 
"  Sent  on  such  embassy,  how  shall  I  dare 
Speak,  sweetest  Princess,  for  myself  to  thee  ? 
Bound  by  my  promise  for  the  gods  to  sue, 
How  can  I  be  a  suitor  for  myself  ? 
Silence  is  here  my  duty  ;  afterward 
If  I  shall  come,  in  mine  own  name  I'll  come, 
Mine  own  cause  pleading.     Ah,  might  that  so  be  !  " 

Checking  her  tears,  Damayanti  sadly  smiled, 
And  said  full  soft :  "  One  way  of  hope  I  see, 
A  blameless  way,  0  Lord  of  men  !  wherefrom 
No  fault  shall  rise,  nor  any  danger  fall. 
Thou  also,  Prince,  with  Indra  and  these  gods, 
Must  enter  in  where  my  Swayamvara 
Is  held ;  then  I,  in  presence  of  those  gods, 
Will  choose  thee,  dearest,  for  my  lord  ;  and  so 
Blame  shall  not  light  on  thee." 

With  which  sweet  words 
Soft  in  his  ears,  Nishadha  straight  returned 


JfALA  AND  DAMATANTI.  283 

There  whore  the  gods  were  gathered,  waiting  him  ; 

Whom  the  world's  masters,  on  his  way,  perceived, 

And,  spying,  questioned,  asking  for  his  news  : 

"  Saw'st  thou  her,  Prince  ?    Didst  see  the  sweet-lipped  one  ? 

What  spake  she  of  us?     Tell  us  true  ;  tell  all ! " 

Quoth  Xala  :  "  By  your  worshipful  behest 
Sent  to  her  house,  the  great  gates  entered  I, 
Though  the  gray  porters  watched  ;  hut  none  might  spy 
My  entering,  by  your  power,  0  radiant  Ones, 
Saving  the  Raja's  daughter  ;  her  I  saw 
Amid  her  maidens,  and  by  them  was  seen. 
On  me  with  much  amazement  they  did  gaze 
Whilst  I  your  high  Divinities  extolled. 
But  she  that  hath  the  lovely  face,  with  mind 
Set  upon  me,  hath  chosen  me,  ye  Gods, 
For  thus  she  spake,  my  Princess  :  '  Let  them  come, 
And  come  thou,  like  a  lordly  tiger,  too, 
Unto  the  place  of  my  Swayamvara ; 
There  will  I  choose  thee  in  their  presence,  Prince, 
To  be  my  lord  ;  and  so  there  will  not  fall 
Blame,  thou  strong-armed  !  to  thee.'     This  she  did  say 
Even  as  I  tell  it  ;  and  wluit  shall  be  next, 
To  will  is  yours,  0  ye  immortal  Ones!" 


Soon,  when  the  moon  was  good,  and  day  and  hour 
Were  found  propitious,  Bhima,  King  of  men, 
Summoned  the  chiefs  to  the  Swayamvara; 
Upon  which  message  all  those  eager  lords 
For  love  of  Damayanti  hastened  there. 
Glorious  with  gilded  pillars  was  the  court, 
Whereto  a  gate-house  opened,  and  thereby 
Into  the  square,  like  lions  from  the  hills, 
Paced  the  proud  guests;  and  there  their  seats  they  took, 
Each  in  his  rank,  the  masters  of  the  lands, 


284  HINDU  FOLK-LORE. 

With  crowns  of  fragrant  blossoms  garlanded, 

And  polished  jewels  swinging  in  their  ears. 

Of  some  the  thews,  knitted  and  rough,  stood  forth 

Like  iron  maces ;  some  had  slender  limbs, 

Sleek  and  fine-turned  like  the  five-headed  snake; 

Lords  with  long-flowing  hair ;  glittering  lords  ; 

High-nosed,  and  eagle-eyed,  and  heavy-browed ; 

The  faces  of  those  kings  shone  in  a  ring 

As  shine  at  night  the  stars ;  and  that  great  square 

As  thronged  with  Kajas  was  as  Naga-land 

Is  full  of  serpents;  thick  with  warlike  chiefs 

As  mountain-caves  with  panthers.     Unto  these 

Entered,  in  matchless  majesty  of  form, 

The  Princess  Damayanti.     As  she  came, 

The  glory  of  her  ravished  eyes  and  hearts, 

So  that  the  gaze  of  all  those  haughty  kings, 

Fastening  upon  her  loveliness,  grew  fixed — 

Not  moving  save  with  her — step  after  step 

Onward  and  always  following  the  maid. 

But  while  the  styles  and  dignities  of  all 
Were  cried  aloud  (0  son  of  Bharat !),  lo ! 
The  Princess  marked  five  of  that  throng  alike 
In  form  and  garb  and  visage.     There  they  stood, 
Each  from  the  next  undifferenced,  but  each 
Nala's  own  self ; — yet  which  might  Nala  be 
In  no  wise  could  that  doubting  maid  descry. 
Who  took  her  eye  seemed  Nala  while  she  gazed, 
Until  she  looked  upon  his  like ;  and  so 
Pondered  the  lovely  lady,  sore  perplexed, 
Thinking,  "  How  shall  I  tell  which  be  the  gods, 
And  which  is  noble  Nala?"     Deep  distressed 
And  meditative  waxed  she,  musing  hard 
What  those  signs  were,  delivered  us  of  old, 
Whereby  gods  may  be  known  :  "  Of  all  those  signs 
Taught  by  our  elders,  lo !  I  see  not  one 


MALA  AMD  DAM  A  TAMIL  28S 

Where  stand  yon  five."     So  murmured  she,  and  turned 

Over  and  over  every  mark  she  knew. 

At  last,  resolved  to  make  the  gods  themselves 

Her  help  at  need,  with  reverent  air  and  voice 

Humbly  saluted  she  those  heavenly  ones, 

And  with  joined  palms  and  trembling  accents  spake : 

"As,  when  I  heard  the  swans,  I  chose  my  Prince, 

By  that  sincerity  I  call  ye,  Gods, 

To  show  my  Love  to  me  and  make  me  know ! 

As  in  my  heart  and  soul  and  speech  I  stand 

True  to  my  choice,  by  that  sincerity 

I  call  the  all-knowing  gods  to  make  me  know  ! 

As  the  high  gods  created  Xishadh's  chief 

To  be  my  lord,  by  their  sincerity 

I  bid  them  show  themselves,  and  make  me  know  ! 

As  my  vow,  sealed  to  him,  must  be  maintained 

For  his  name,  and  for  mine,  I  call  the  gods 

By  such  sincerity  to  make  me  know! 

Lei  them  appear,  the  masters  of  the  world — 

The  high  gods — each  one  in  his  proper  shape, 

That  1  may  see  Nishadha's  chief,  my  choice, 

Whom  minstrels  praise,  and  Damayanti  loves." 

Hearing  that  earnest  speech — so  passion-fraught, 
So  full  of  truth,  (if  strong  resolve,  of  lov<  , 
Of  singleness  of  soul  and  constancy — 
Even  a--  she  spake,  the  gods  disclosed  themselves. 
By  well-seen  signs  the  effulgenl  Ones  she  knew. 
Shadowless  stood  they,  with  unwinking  eyes, 
And  -kins  which  never  moist  with  stoeat ;  their  feet 
Light-gliding  o'er  the  ground,  not  touching  il  : 
The  unfading  blossoms  on  their  brows  not  soiled 
\',\  earthly  dust,  bul  ever  fair  and  fresh. 
Whilst,  by  their  side,  garbed  so  and  visaged  so, 
Im!  doubled  by  his  shadow,  stained  with  dust, 
The  flower-cups  wiltering  in  his  wreath,  his  skin 


286  HINDU  FOLK-LOBE. 

Pearly  with  sioeat,  his  feet  upon  the  earth, 
And  eves  a-wink,  stood  Nala.     One  by  one 
Glanced  she  on  those  divinities,  then  bent 
Her  gaze  upon  the  Prince,  and  joyous  said  : 
"  I  know  thee,  and  I  name  my  rightful  lord, 
Taking  Nishadha's  chief."     Therewith  she  drew 
Modestly  nigh,  and  held  him  by  the  cloth, 
With  large  eyes  beaming  love,  and  round  his  neck 
Hang  the  bright  chaplet,  love's  delicious  crown; 
So  choosing  him — him  only — whom  she  named 
Before  the  face  of  all  to  be  her  lord. 

Oh,  then  brake  forth  from  all  those  suitors  proud, 
"  Ha  ! "  and  "  Aho  ! "     But  from  the  gods  and  saints, 
"Sadhu  !  well  done!  well  done!"     And  all  admired 
The  happy  Prince,  praising  the  grace  of  him; 
While  Virasena's  son,  delightedly, 
Spake  to  the  Slender-waisted  these  fond  words : 
"  Fair  Princess  !  since,  before  all  gods  and  men, 
Thou  makest  me  thy  choice,  right  glad  am  I 
Of  this  thy  mind,  and  true  lord  will  I  be. 
For  so  long,  loveliest,  as  my  breath  endures, 
Thine  am  I !     Thus  I  plight  my  troth  to  thee." 
So,  with  joined  palms,  unto  that  beauteous  maid 
His  gentle  faith  he  pledged,  rejoicing  her ; 
And,  hand  in  hand,  radiant  with  mutual  love, 
Before  great  Agni  and  the  gods  they  passed, 
The  world's  protectors  worshiping. 

Then  those, 
The  lords  of  life,  the  powerful  Ones,  bestowed — 
Being  well-pleased— on  Nala,  chosen  so, 
Eight  noble  boons.     The  boon  which  Indra  gave 
Was  grace,  at  times  of  sacrifice,  to  see 
The  visible  god  approach,  with  step  divine  ; 
And  Agni's  boon  was  this,  that  he  would  come 


.KALA  AM)  DAMAYJXTI.  287 

Whenever  Xala  called — for  everywhere 

Hutasa  shineth,  and  all  worlds  are  his  ; 

Yama  gave  skill  in  cookery,  steadfastness 

In  virtue ;  and  Varuna,  King  of  Floods, 

Bade  all  the  waters  ripple  at  his  call. 

These  boons  the  high  gods  doubled  by  the  gift 

Of  bright  wreaths  wove  with  magic  blooms  of  heaven; 

And  those  bestowed,  ascended  to  their  seats. 

Also  with  wonder  and  with  joy  returned 

The  Rajas  and  the  Maharajas  all. 

Full  of  the  marriage-feast ;  for  Bhima  made, 

In  pride  and  pleasure,  stately  nuptials; 

So  Damayanti  and  the  Prince  were  wed. 

Then,  having  tarried  as  is  wont,  that  lord — 
Nishadha's  chief — took  the  King's  leave,  and  went 
Unto  his  city,  bringing  home  with  him 
His  jewel  of  all  womanhood,  with  whom 
Blissful  he  lived,  as  lives  by  Sachi1s  side 
The  slayer  of  the  Demons.     Like  a  sun 
Shone  Xala  on  his  throne,  ruling  his  folk 
In  strength  and  virtue,  guardian  of  his  state. 
'Also  the  Aswamedha  Rite  he  made 
Greatest  of  rites,  the  Offering  of  the  Eorse, 
As  did  Yayati  ;  and  all  other  acts 
Of  worship;  and  to  sages  gave  rich  gifts. 

Many  dear  days  of  much  delicious  love, 
In  pleasant  gardens  and  in  shadowy  groves, 
Passed  they  together,  sojourning  like  gods. 
Am!  Damayanti  bore  unto  her  lord 
A  boy  named  [ndrasen,  and  next,  a  girl 
Named  [ndrasena.     So  in  happiness 
Tie'  good  Prince  governed,  seeing  all  his  lands 
Wealthy  and  well,  in  piety  and  peace. 


288  HINDU  FOLK- LOBE. 

Now  at  the  choosing  of  Nishadha's  chief 
By  Bhima's  daughter,  when  those  lords  of  life — 
The  effulgent  gods — departed,  Dwapara 
They  saw  with  Kali,  coming.  .  Indra  said — 
The  Demon-slayer — spying  these  approach  : 
"Whither,  with  Dwapara,  goest  thou  to-day, 

0  Kali  ?  "     And  the  somber  Shade  replied  : 
"  To  Damayanti's  high  Swayamvara 

1  go,  to  make  her  mine,  since  she  hath  passed 
Into  my  heart."     But  Indra,  laughing,  said  : 
"Ended  is  that  Swayamvara;  for  she 

Hath  taken  Raja  Nala  for  her  lord, 

Before  us  all."     But  Kali,  hearing  this, 

Brake  into  wrath — while  he  stood  worshiping 

That  band  divine — and  furiously  cried  : 

"  If  she  hath  set  a  man  above  the  gods, 

To  wed  with  him,  for  such  sin  let  there  fall 

Doom,  rightful,  swift,  and  terrible,  on  her  ! " 

"  Nay,"  answered  unto  him  those  heavenly  ones, 

"  But  Damayanti  chose  with  our  good  will ; 

And  what  maid  but  would  choose  so  fair  a  prince, 

Seeing  he  hath  all  qualities,  and  knows 

Virtue,  and  rightly  practices  the  vows, 

And  reads  the  four  great  Vedas,  and,  what's  next, 

The  Holy  Stories,  whilst,  perpetually, 

The  gods  are  honored  in  his  house  with  gifts? 

No  hurt  he  does,  kind  to  all  living  things ; 

True  of  word  is  he,  faithful,  liberal,  just ; 

Steadfast  and  patient,  temperate  and  pure  ; 

A  king  of  men  is  Nala,  like  the  gods. 

He  that  would  curse  a  prince  of  such  a  mold, 

Thou  foolish  Kali,  lays  upon  himself 

A  sin  to  crush  himself ;  the  curse  comes  back 

And  sinks  him  in  the  bottomless  vast  gulf 

Of  Narak." 


NALA  AXB  BAMAYAMTL  289 

Thus  the  gods  to  Kali  spake, 
And  mounted  heavenward  ;  whereupon  that  Shade, 
Frowning,  to  Dwapara  hurst  forth  :  "  My  rage 
Beareth  no  curb.     Henceforth  in  Nala  I 
Will  dwell ;  his  kingdom  I  will  make  to  fall ; 
His  bliss  with  Damayanti  I  will  mar  ; 
And  thou  within  the  dice  shalt  enter  straight, 
And  help  me,  Dwapara  !  to  drag  him  down." 


Into  which  compact  entering,  those  repaired — 
Kali  and  Dwapara— to  Xala's  house, 
And  haunted  in  Nishadha,  where  he  ruled, 
Seeking  occasion  'gainst  the  blameless  Prince. 
Long  watched  they  ;  twelve  years  rolled  ere  Kali  saw 
The  fateful  fault  arrive;  Nishadha's  Lord, 
Basing  himself,  and  sprinkling  hands  and  lips 
With  purifying  water,  passed  to  prayer, 
His  feet  unwashed,  offending.     Kali  straight 
Possessed  the  heedless  Raja,  entering  him. 

That  hour  there  sat  with  Nala,  Pushkara 
His  brother ;  and  the  evil  spirit  hissed 
Into  tin'  ear  of  Pushkara:  "  Ehi ! 
Arise,  and  challenge  Nala  at  the  dice. 
Throw  with  the  Prince!  it  may  be  thou  shalt  win 
(Luck  helping  thee,  and  I)  N"ishadha's  throne, 
Town,  treasures,  palace— thou  maysl  gaiu  them  all/' 
Aim!  Pushkara,  hearing  Kali's  evil  roice, 
Made  near  to  Nala,  with  the  dice  in  hand 
(A  great  piece  for  the  "  Bull,"  and  little  our., 
For  "  Cows,"  and  Kali  hiding  in  the  Hull). 
So  Pushkara  came  to  Nala'    Bide  and  -aid  : 
"Play  with  me,  brother,  al  the 'Cows  and  Bull'"; 
And,  being  pul  off,  cried  mockingly,  "  Nay,  play!" 
Shaming  the  Prince,  whose  spirit  chafed  to  leave 
For.K-r.oRF.  10 


290  HINDU  FOLK-LORE. 

A  gage  unfaced  ;  but  when  Vidarbha's  gem, 
The  Princess,  heard  that  challenge,  Nala  rose : 
"  Yea,  Pushkara,  I  will  play  ! "  fiercely  he  said ; 
And  to  the  game  addressed. 

His  gems  he  lost, 
Armlets  and  belt  and  necklet ;  next  the  gold 
Of  the  palace  and  its  vessels ;  then  the  cars 
Yoked  with  swift  steeds ;  and  last,  the  royal  robes : 
For,  cast  by  cast,  the  dice  against  him  fell, 
Bewitched  by  Kali ;  and,  cast  after  cast, 
The  passion  of  the  dice  gat  hold  on  him, 
Until  not  one  of  all  his  faithf ulest 
Could  stay  the  madman's  hand  aud  gamester's  heart 
Of  who  was  named  "  Subduer  of  his  Foes." 

The  townsmen  gathered  with  the  ministers : 
Into  that  palace  gate  they  thronged  (my  King  !) 
To  see  their  lord,  if  so  they  might  abate 
This  sickness  of  his  soul.     The  charioteer, 
Forth  standing  from  their  midst,  low  worshiping, 
Spake  thus  to  Damavanti :  "  Great  Princess, 
Before  thy  door  all  the  grieved  city  sits. 
Say  to  our  lord  for  us,  '  Thy  folk  are  here ; 
They  mourn  that  evil  fortunes  hold  their  liege, 
Who  was  so  high  and  just.' "     Then  she,  deject, 
Passed  in,  and  to  Nishadha's  ruler  said, 
Her  soft  voice  broken,  and  her  bright  eyes  dimmed : 
"  Eaja,  the  people  of  thy  town  are  here ; 
Before  our  gates  they  gather,  citizens 
And  counselors,  desiring  speech  with  thee ; 
In  lealty  they  come.     Wilt  thou  be  pleased 
We  open  to  them  ?     Wilt  thou  ?  "     So  she  asked 
Again  and  yet  again ;  but  not  one  word 
To  that  sad  lady  with  the  lovely  brows 
Did  Nala  answer,  wholly  swallowed  up 


NALA  AjYD  DAMAYANTI.  291 

Of  Kali  and  the  gaming ;  so  that  those — 
The  citizens  and  counselors — cried  out, 
"  Our  lord  is  changed  !     He  is  not  Nala  now  !  " 
And  home  returned,  ashamed  and  sorrowful ; 
Whilst  ceaselessly  endured  that  foolish  play 
Moon  after  moon — the  Prince  the  loser  still. 


Thex  Damayanti,  seeing  so  estranged 
Her  lord,  the  praised  in  song,  the  chief  of  men, 
Watching,  all  self-possessed,  his  fantasy, 
And  how  the  gaming  held  him  ;  sad,  and  'feared, 
The  heavy  fortunes  pondering  of  her  Prince  ; 
Hating  the  fault,  but  to  the  offender  kind  ; 
And  fearing  Nala  should  be  stripped  of  all, 
This  thing  devised.     Vrihatsena  she  called — 
Her  foster-nurse  and  faithful  ministrant — 
True,  skilful  at  all  service,  soft  of  speech, 
Kind-hearted  ;  and  she  said,  "  Vrihatsena, 
Go  call  the  ministers  to  council  now, 
As  though  'twere  Nala  bade ;  and  make  them  count 
What  store  is  gone  of  treasure,  what  abides." 
So  went  Yrihatsi'iia,  and  summoned  those; 
And  when  they  knew  all  tilings,  as  from  the  Prince, 
"Truly  we,  too,  shall  perish!  "  cried  they  then; 
And  all  to  Nala  went,  and  all  the  town, 
A  second  time  assembling,  thronged  his  gates: 
Which  Bhima's  daughter  told;  but  not  one  word 
Answered  the  Prince.     And  when  she  saw  her  lord 
Put  by  her  plea,  utterly  slighting  it, 
Back  1"  her  <-hamber,  full  of  shame,  she  goes, 
And  there  -till  hears  the  dice  are  falling  ill ; 
Still  hears  <>f  Nala  daily  losing  more; 
So  that  again  unto  her  nurse  she  spake: 
"Send  to  Varshneya,  good  Vrihatsena; 
Say  to  the  charioteer — in  .\ala\s  name — 


292  HINDU  FOLK-LOBE. 

' A  great  thing  is  to  do.     Come  thou  ! '  "     And  this- 

So  soon  as  Damayanti  uttered  it — 

Vrihatsena,  by  faithful  servants,  told 

Unto  the  son  of  Vrishni,  who,  being  come 

In  fitting  time  and  place,  heard  the  sweet  Queen 

In  mournful  music  speak  these  wistful  words : 

"  Thou  knowest  how  thy  Eaja  trusted  thee ; 

Now  he  hath  fall'n  on  evil ;  succor  him  ! 

The  more  that  Pushkara  conquers  in  the  play, 

The  wilder  rage  of  gaming  takes  thy  lord  : 

The  more  for  Pushkara  the  dice  light  well, 

More  contrary  they  happen  to  the  Prince : 

Nor  heeds  he,  as  were  meet,  kindred  or  friends ; 

Nay,  of  myself  he  putteth  by  the  prayer 

Unanswered,  being  bewitched ;  for  well  I  deem 

This  is  not  noble-minded  Nala's  sin, 

But  some  ill  spell  possesseth  him  to  shut 

His  ears  to  me.     Thou,  therefore,  charioteer  ! 

Our  refuge  be  ;  do  what  I  shall  command  ; 

My  heart  is  dark  with  fear.     Yea,  it  may  fall 

Our  lord  will  perish.     Wherefore,  harnessing 

His  chosen  steeds,  which  fly  as  swift  as  thought, 

Take  these  our  children  in  the  chariot 

And  drive  to  Kundina,  delivering  there 

Unto  my  kin  the  little  ones,  and  car, 

And  horses.     Afterwards  abide  thou  there, 

Or  otherwhere  depart." 

Varshneya  heard 
The  words  of  Damayanti,  and  forthwith 
In  Nala's  council-hall  recounted  them, 
The  chief  men  being  present ;  who,  thus  met, 
And  long  debating,  gave  him  leave  to  go. 
So  with  that  royal  pair  to  Bhima's  town 
Drove  he,  and  at  Vidarbha  rendered  up, 
Together  with  the  swift  steeds  and  the  car, 


MALA  AND  DAMAYAMTL  293 

That  sweet  maid  Indrasena,  and  the  Prince 
Indrasen,  and  made  reverence  to  the  King, 
Saddened  for  sake  of  Xala.     Afterward 
Taking  his  leave,  unto  Ayodhya 
Varshneya  went,  exceeding  sorrowful, 
And  with  King  Rituparna  (0  my  Prince  !) 
Took  service  as  a  charioteer. 


These  gone — 
The  praised-of-poets,  Xala,  still  played  on, 
Till  Pushkara  his  kingdom's  wealth  had  won, 
And  whatso  was  to  lose  beside.     Thereat 
With  scornful  laugh  mocked  he  that  beggared  Prince, 
Saying  :  "  One  other  throw  !  once  more  ! — Yet  sooth, 
What  canst  thou  stake  ?     Nothing  is  left  for  thee 
Save  Pamayanti ;  all  the  rest  is  mine. 
Play  we  for  Damayanti,  if  thou  wilt." 
But  hearing  this  from  Pushkara,  the  Prince 
So  in  his  heart  by  grief  and  shame  was  torn, 
No  word  he  uttered — only  glared  in  wrath 
Upon  his  mocker,  upon  Pushkara. 
Then,  his  rich  robes  and  jewels  stripping  off, 
Uncovered,  with  one  cloth,  'mid  waiting  friends 
Sorrowful  passed  he  forth,  his  great  state  gone; 
The  Princess,  with  our  garment,  following  him, 
Piteous  to  Bee.     And  there  without  the  gates 
Three  nights  they  lay— Nishadha's  \\wvi,  and  Queen. 
CTpon  the  fourth  day  Pushkara  proclaimed. 
Throughout  the  city:  "  Whoso  yieldeth  help 
To  Nala,  dieth  !     Let  my  will  he  known!" 

So,  for  this  bitter  word  of  Pushkara's  power 
(0  Yudhisthirl)  the  townsmen  rendered  not 
Service  nor  love,  but  left  them  outcast  there, 


294  HINDU  FOLK-LORE. 

Unhelped,  whom  all  the  city  should  have  helped. 

Yet  three  nights  longer  tarried  he,  his  drink 

The  common  pool,  his  meat  such  fruits  and  roots 

As  miserable  hunger  plucks  from  earth  : 

Then  fled  they  from  those  walls,  the  Prince  going  first, 

The  Princess  following. 

After  grievous  days, 
Pinched  ever  with  sharp  famine,  Kala  saw 
A  flock  of  gold-winged  birds  lighting  anigh, 
And  to  himself  the  famished  Raja  said : 
"  Lo  !  here  is  food  ;  this  day  we  shall  have  store  "  ; 
Then  lightly  cast  his  cloth  and  covered  them. 
But  these,  fluttering  aloft,  bore  with  them  there 
Nala's  one  cloth  ;  and,  hovering  overhead, 
Uttered  sharp-stinging  words,  reviling  him 
Even  as  he  stood,  naked  to  all  the  airs, 
Downcast  and  desperate  :  "  Thou  brain-sick  Prince  ! 
"We  are  the  dice  ;  we  come  to  ravish  hence 
Thy  last  poor  cloth ;  we  were  not  well  content 
Thou  shouldst  depart  owning  a  garment  still." 
And  when  he  saw  the  dice  take  wings  and  fly, 
Leaving  him  bare,  to  Damayanti  spake 
This  melancholy  Prince  :  "  0  Blameless  One, 
They  by  whose  malice  I  am  driven  forth, 
Finding  no  sustenance,  sad,  famine-gaunt — 
They  whose  decree  forbade  Nishadha's  folk 
Should  succor  me,  their  Raja — these  have  come— 
Demon  and  dice — and  like  to  winged  birds 
Have  borne  away  my  cloth.     To  such  shame  fall'n, 
Such  utmost  woe,  wretched,  demented— I 
Thy  lord  am  still,  and  counsel  thee  for  good. 
Attend  !     Hence  be  there  many  roads  which  go 
Southward  :  some  pass  Avanti's  walls,  and  some 
Skirt  Rikshavan,  the  forest  of  the  bears  ; 
This  wends  to  Vindhya's  lofty  peaks,  and  this 


JVALA  AJVD  DAMAYANTI.  295 

To  the  green  banks  where  quick  Payoshni  runs 

Seaward,  between  her  hermitages,  rich 

In  fruits  and  roots ;  and  yon  jDath  leadeth  thee 

Unto  Vidarbha ;  that  to  Kosala, 

And  therefrom  southward — southward — far  away." 

So  spake  he  to  the  Princess  wistfully, 
Between  his  words  pointing  along  the  paths, 
Which  she  should  take  (0  King !).     But  Bhima's  child 
Made  answer,  bowed  with  grief,  her  soft  voice  choked 
With  sobs,  these  piteous  accents  uttering  : 

"  My  heart  beats  quick  ;  my  body's  force  is  gone, 
Thinking,  dear  Prince,  on  this  which  thou  hast  said, 
Pointing  along  the  paths.     What !  robbed  of  realm, 
Stripped  of  thy  wealth,  bare,  famished,  parched  with  thirst, 
Thus  shall  I  leave  thee  in  the  untrodden  wood  ? 
Ah,  no !     While  thou  dost  muse  on  dear  days  fled, 
Hungry  and  weeping,  I  in  this  wild  waste 
Will  charm  thy  griefs  away,  solacing  thee. 
The  wisest  doctors  say,  '  In  every  woe 
No  better  physic  is  than  wifely  love.' 
And,  Nala,  I  will  make  ic  true  to  thee." 

"  Thou  mak'st  it  true,"  he  said  ;  "  thou  sayest  well, 
Sweet  Damayanti ;  neither  is  there  friend 
To  sad  men  given  better  than  a  wife. 
I  had  no  thought  to  leave  thee,  foolish  Love! 
Why  didst  thou  fear?     Alas,  'tis  from  myself 
That  I  would  fly— not  thee,  thou  Faultless  One!" 

"Yet,  if,"  the  Princess  answered,  "  Maharaj! 
Thou  hadst  no  thought  to  leave  me,  why  by  thee 
Was  the  way  pointed  to  VMarbha's  walls? 
I  know  thou  wouldst  not  quit  me,  noblest  Lord, 
Being  thyself,  but  only  if  thy  mind 
Were  .-ore  distraught;  and  see,  thou  gazest  still 


296  HINDU  FOLK-LORE. 

Along  the  southward  road,  my  dread  thereby 
Increasing,  thou  that  wert  as  are  the  gods ! 
If  it  be  thy  fixed  thought,  '  'Tvvere  best  she  went 
Unto  her  people' — be  it  so ;  I  go ; 
But  hand  in  hand  with  thee.     Thus  let  us  fare 
Unto  Vidarbha,  where  the  King,  my  sire, 
Will  greet  thee  well,  and  honor  thee ;.  and  we 
Happy  and  safe  within  his  gates  shall  dwell." 


"  As  is  thy  father's  kingdom,"  Nala  said, 
"  So,  once,  was  mine.     Be  sure,  whate'er  betide, 
Never  will  I  go  thither  !     How,  in  sooth, 
Should  I,  who  came  there  glorious,  gladdening  thee, 
Creep  back,  thy  shame  and  scorn,  disconsolate?" 

So  to  sweet  Damayanti  spake  the  Prince, 

Beguiling  her,  whom  now  one  cloth  scarce  clad  — 

For  but  one  garb  they  shared  ;  and  thus  they  strayed 

Hither  and  thither,  faint  for  meat  and  drink, 

Until  a  little  hut  they  spied ;  and  there, 

Nishadha's  monarch,  entering,  sat  him  down 

On  the  bare  ground,  the  Princess  by  his  side — 

Vidarbha's  glory,  wearing  that  scant  cloth, 

Without  a  mat,  soiled  by  the  dust  and  mire. 

At  Damayanti's  side  he  sank  asleep, 

Outworn  ;  and  beauteous  Damayanti  slept, 

Spent  with  strange  trials — she  so  gently  reared, 

So  soft  and  holy.     But  while  slumbering  thus, 

No  peaceful  rest  knew  Nala.     Trouble-tossed 

He  woke,  forever  thinking  of  his  realm 

Lost,  lieges  estranged,  and  all  the  griefs 

Of  that  wild  wood.     These  on  his  heart  came  back, 

And,  "  What  if  I  shall  do  it  ?     What,  again, 

If  I  shall  do  it  not?"     So  murmured  he. 

"  Would  death  be  better,  or  to  leave  my  Love  ? 


KALA  AMD   DAMAYANTI.  297 

For  my  sake  she  endures  this  woe,  my  fate 
Too  fondly  sharing;  freed  from  me,  her  steps 
Would  turn  unto  her  people.     At  my  side, 
Sure  suffering  is  her  portion  ;  but  apart, 
It  might  be  she  would  somewhere  comfort  find." 

Thus  with  himself  debating  o'er  and  o'er, 
The  Prince  resolves  abandonment  were  best. 
"  For  how,"  saith  he,  "  should  any  in  the  wood 
Harm  her,  so  radiant  in  her  grace,  so  good, 
So  noble,  virtuous,  faithful,  famous,  pure?" 
Thus  mused  his  miserable  mind,  seduced 
By  Kali's  cursed  mischiefs  to  betray 
His  sleeping  wife.     Then,  seeing  his  loin-cloth  gone, 
And  Damayanti  clad,  he  drew  anigh, 
Thinking  to  take  of  hers,  and  muttering, 
"  May  I  not  rend  one  fold,  and  she  not  know?  " 
So  meditating,  round  the  cabin  crept 
Prince  Xala,  feeling  up  and  down  its  walls; 
And,  presently,  within  the  purlieus  found 
A  naked  knife,  keen-tempered  ;  therewithal 
Shred  he  away  a  piece,  and  bound  it  on  ; 
Then  made  with  desperate  steps  to  seek  the  waste, 
Leaving  the  Princess  sleeping  ;  but,  anon, 
Turns  back  again  in  changeful  mood  and  glides 
Into  the  hut,  and,  gazing  wistfully 
On  slumbering  Damayanti,  moans  with  tears: 
tv  Alu  Sweetheart  !  whom  nor  wind  nor  sun  before 
Bath  evei-  rudely  touched  ;  thou  to  be  couched 
In  this  poor  but,  its  floor  thy  bed,  and  I, 
Thy  lord,  deserting  thee,  stealing  from  thee 
Thy  last  robe!     0  my  love  with  the  brighl  smile, 
My  Blender-waisted  Queen  !     Will  she  not  wake 
To  madness?     5Tea,  and  when  she  wanders  [one 
In  the  dark  wood,  haunted  with  beasts  and  snakes, 
How  will  it  fare  with  Bhima's  tender  child, 


298  HINDU  FOLK-LORE. 

The  bright  and  peerless?     0  my  life,  my  wife ! 
May  the  great  sun,  may  the  Eight  Powers  of  air, 
The  Rudras,  Maruts,  and  the  Aswins  twain, 
Guard  thee,  thou  true  and  dear  one,  on  thy  way ! " 

So  to  his  sleeping  Queen — on  all  the  earth 
Unmatched  for  beauty — spake  he  piteously ; 
Then  brake  away  once  more,  by  Kali  driven. 
But  yet  another  and  another  time 
Stole  back  into  the  but,  for  one  last  gaze — 
That  way  by  Kali  dragged,  this  way  by  love. 
Two  hearts  he  had — the  trouble-stricken  Prince — 
One  beating  "  Go,"  one  throbbing  "  Stay  " ;  and  thus 
Backwards  and  forwards  swung  his  mind  between, 
Till,  mastered  by  the  sorrow  and  the  spell, 
Frantic  flies  Nala,  leaving  there  alone 
That  tender  sleeper,  sighing  as  she  slept. 
He  flies — the  soulless  prey  of  Kali  flies ; 
Still,  while  he  hurries  through  the  forest  drear, 
Thinking  upon  that  sweet  face  he  hath  left. 


Far  distant  (King !)  was  Nala,  when,  refreshed, 
The  Slender-waisted  wakened,  shuddering 
At  the  wood's  silence ;  but  when,  seeking  him, 
She  found  no  Nala,  sudden  anguish  seized 
Her  frightened  heart,  and,  lifting  high  her  voice, 
Loud  cried  she  :  "  Maharaja !  Nishadh's  Prince  ! 
Ha,  Lord  !  ha,  Maharaj !  ha,  Master,  why 
Hast  thou  abandoned  me  ?     Now  am  I  lost, 
Am  doomed,  undone,  left  in  this  lonesome  gloom. 
Wert  thou  not  named,  0  Nala,  true  and  just? 
Yet  art  thou  such,  to  quit  me  while  I  slept  ? 
And  hast  thou  so  forsaken  me,  thy  wife — 
Thine  own  fond  wife — who  never  wrought  thee  wrong 
When  by  all  others  wrong  was  wrought  on  thee  ? 


NALA  AND  DAM  AY  ANT  I.  299 

Mak'st  thou  it  good  to  me,  now,  Lord  of  men, 

That  love  which  long  ago  before  the  gods 

Thou  didst  proclaim?     Alas !  Death  will  not  come, 

Except  at  his  appointed  time  to  men, 

And  therefore  for  a  little  I  shall  live, 

Whom  thou  hast  lived  to  leave.     Nay,  'tis  a  jest ! 

Ah,  Truant,  Runaway,  enough  thou  play'st ! 

Come  forth,  my  Lord  !— I  am  afraid  !     Come  forth  ! 

Linger  not,  for  I  see— I  spy  thee  there ; 

Thou  art  within  yon  thicket !     Why  not  speak 

One  word,  Nishadha?     Nala,  cruel  Prince! 

Thou  know'st  me  lone,  and  comest  not  to  calm 

My  terrors,  and  be  with  me  in  my  need. 

Art  gone  indeed  ?     Then  I'll  not  mourn  myself, 

For  whatso  may  befall  me;  I  must  think 

How  desolate  thou  art,  and  weep  for  thee. 

What  wilt  thou  do,  thirsty  and  hungry,  spent 

With  wandering,  when,  at  nightfall,  'mid  the  trees 

Thou  hast  me  not,  sweet  Prince,  to  comfort  thee?" 

Thereat,  distracted  by  her  bitter  fears, 
Like  one  whose  heart  is  fire,  forward  and  back 
She  runs,  hither  and  thither,  weeping,  wild. 
One  while  she  sinks  to  earth,  one  while  she  springs 
Quick  to  her  feet ;  now  utterly  o'ercome 
By  fear  and  fasting,  now  by  grief  driven  mad, 
Wailing  and  sobbing;  till  anon,  with  moans 
And  broken  sighs  and  tears,  Bhima's  fair  child, 
The  ever-faithful  wife,  speaks  thus  again  : 
"  I',',  whomsoever's  spell  this  harm  hath  fall'n 
OnNishadh'e  Lord,  I  pray  thai  evil  one 
MaN  bear  a  bitterer  plague  than  Nala  doth! 
To  him,  whoever  set  my  guileless  Prince 
On  these  ill  deeds,  1  pray  some  direr  might 
May  bring  far  darker  days,  and  life  to  live 
More  miserable  still !  " 


300  HINDU  FOLK-LORE. 

Thus,  woe-begone, 
Mourned  that  great-hearted  wife  her  vanished  lord, 
Seeking  him  ever  in  the  gloomy  shades, 
By  wild  beasts  haunted.     Roaming  everywhere, 
Like  one  possessed,  frantic,  disconsolate, 
Went  Bhima's  daughter.     "  Ha,  ha  !  Maharaj ! " 
So  crying  runs  she,  so  in  every  place 
Is  heard  her  ceaseless  wail,  as  when  is  heard 
The  fish-hawk's  cry,  which  screams,  and  circling  screams, 
And  will  not  stint  complaining. 

Suddenly 
Straying  too  near  his  den,  a  serpent's  coils 
Seized  Bhima's  daughter.     A  prodigious  snake, 
Glittering  and  strong,  and  furious  for  food, 
Knitted  about  the  Princess.     She,  o'er  whelmed 
With  horror,  and  the  cold  enfolding  deatb, 
Spends  her  last  breaths  in  pitiful  laments 
For  Nala,  not  herself.     "  Ah,  Prince  ! "  she  cried, 
"  That  would  have  saved  me,  who  must  perish  now, 
Seized  in  the  lone  wood  by  this  hideous  snake, 
Why  art  thou  not  beside  me  ?     What  will  be 
Thy  thoughts,  Nishadha  !  me  remembering 
In  days  to  come,  when,  from  the  curse  set  free, 
Thou  hast  thy  noble  mind  again,  thyself, 
Thy  wealth — all  save  thy  wife  ?     Then  thou'lt  be  sad, 
Be  weary,  wilt  need  food  and  drink  ;  but  I 
Shall  minister  no  longer.     Who  will  tend 
My  Love,  my  Lord,  my  Lion  among  kings, 
My  blameless  Nala — Damayanti  dead  ? "  ' 


1  Damayanti  was  not  destroyed  by  the  serpent.  After  many  vicissitudes 
and  .strange  adventures,  the  king  and  queen  were  reunited  and  regained  their 
kingdom,  to  live  in  happiness. 


THE  LIGHT  OF  ASM.  301 

THE    LIGHT    OF   ASIA. 

BY   SIR    EDWIN    ARNOLD. 

Book  III. 

Ik  which  calm  home  of  happy  life  and  love 

Ligged  our  Lord  Buddha,  knowing  not  of  woe, 

Nor  want,  nor  pain,  nor  plague,  nor  age,  nor  death, 

Save  as  when  sleepers  roam  dim  seas  in  dreams, 

And  land  awearied  on  the  shores  of  day, 

Bringing  strange  merchandise  from  that  black  voyage. 

Thus  ofttimes,  when  he  lay  with  gentle  head 

Lulled  on  the  dark  breasts  of  Yasodhara, 

Her  fond  hands  fanning  slow  his  sleeping  lids, 

He  would  start  up  and  cry  :  "  My  world  !     Oh,  world  ! 

I  hear !  I  know  !  I  come  !  "     And  she  would  ask, 

"What  ails  my  Lord?"   with  large  eyes  terror-struck; 

For  at  such  times  the  pity  in  his  look 

Was  awful,  and  his  visage  like  a  god's. 

Then  would  he  smile  again  to  stay  her  tears, 

And  bid  the  vinas  sound ;  but  once  they  set 

A  stringed  gourd  on  the  sill,  there  where  the  wind 

Could  linger  o'er  its  notes  and  play  at  will — 

Wild  music  makes  the  wind  on  silver  strings — 

And  those  who  lay  around  heard  only  that; 

Bui  Prince  Siddartha  heard  tin;  Devas  play, 

And  to  his  ears  they  sung  such  words  as  these: 

We  are  tin-  mires  of  the  wandering  wind, 
Which  moan  for  rest,  and  rest  can  never  find; 
hoi  as  the  wind  is,  so  is  mortal  life, 
A  mint  a,  a  sigh,  a  sob,  a  storm,  "  strife. 

Wherefore  and  whence  we  are  ye  can  not  know, 
Xnr  where  I  iff  springs,  nor  whither  life  doth  go  : 
We  are  us  ye  are,  ghosts  from  the  inane ; 

)Yh<it  pleasure  have  loe  of  our  chaiujcfnl  pain? 


302  HINDU  FOLK-LORE. 

Wliat  pleasure  hast  thou  of  thy  changeless  bliss  ?§ 
Nay,  if  love  lasted,  there  were  joy  in  tins  ; 
But  life's  way  is  the  wind's  way,  all  these  things 
Are  but  brief  voices  breathed  on  shifting  strings. 

0  Maya's  son  I  because  we  roam  the  earth 
Moan  we  upon  these  strings  ;  ive  make  no  mirth  ; 
So  many  woes  we  see  in  many  lands, 
So  many  streaming  eyes  and  wringing  hands. 

Yet  mock  we  while  we  wail,  for,  could  they  knoiv, 
This  life  they  cling  to  is  Met  empty  shoiv  ; 
'Twere  all  as  well  to  bid  a  cloud  to  stand, 
Or  hold  a  running  river  with  the  hand. 

But  thou  that  art  to  save,  thine  hour  is  nigh ! 
The  sad  ivorld  waiteth  in  its  misery, 
The  blind  world  stumbleth  on  its  round  of  pain  ; 
Rise,  Maya's  child!  icake!  slumber  not  again! 

We  are  the  voices  of  the  wandering  wind : 
Wander  thou,  too,  0  Prince,  thy  rest  to  find  ; 
Leave  love  for  love  of  lovers,  for  woe's  sake 
Quit  state  for  sorrow,  and  deliverance  make. 

So  sigh  we,  passing  o'er  the  silver  strings, 

To  thee  ivho  know'st  not  yet  of  earthly  things ; 

So  say  ive  ;  mocking,  as  we  pass  aioay, 

These  lovely  shadows  wherewith  thou  dost  play. 

Thereafter  it  befell  he  sate  at  eve 
Amid  his  beauteous  Court,  holding  the  hand 
Of  sweet  Yasodhara,  and  some  maid  told — 
With  breaks  of  music  when  her  rich  voice  dropped- 
An  ancient  tale  to  speed  the  hour  of  dusk, 
Of  love,  and  of  a  magic  horse,  and  lands 
Wonderful,  distant,  where  pale  peoples  dwelled, 
And  where  the  sun  at  nisrht  sank  into  seas. 


THE  LIGHT  OF  ASIA.  3^3 

Then  spake  he,  sighing  :  "  Chitra  brings  me  back 

The  wind's  song  in  the  strings  with  that  fair  tale : 

Give  her,  Yasodhara,  thy  pearl  for  thanks. 

But  thou,  my  pearl !  is  there  so  wide  a  world  ? 

Is  there  a  laud  which  sees  the  great  sun  roll 

Into  the  waves,  and  are  their  hearts  like  ours, 

Countless,  unknown,  not  happy — it  may  be — 

Whom  we  might  succor  if  we  knew  of  them? 

Ofttimes  I  marvel,  as  the  Lord  of  day 

Treads  from  the  east  his  kingly  road  of  gold, 

Who  first  on  the  world's  edge  hath  hailed  his  beam, 

The  children  of  the  morning ;  oftentimes, 

Even  in  thine  arms  and  on  thy  breasts,  bright  wife, 

Sore  have  I  panted,  at  the  sun's  decline, 

To  pass  with  him  into  that  crimson  west, 

And  see  the  peoples  of  the  evening. 

There  must  be  many  we  should  love — how  else? 

Now  have  I  in  this  hour  an  ache,  at  last, 

Thy  soft  lips  can  not  kiss  away  :  oh,  girl  ! 

0  Chitra!  you  that  know  of  fairyland  ! 

Where  tether  they  that  swift  steed  of  thy  talc? 

Mv  palace  for  one  day  upon  his  back, 

To  ride  and  ride  and  see  the  spread  of  the  earth; 

Nay,  if  I  had  yon  callow  vulture's  plumes — 

The  carrion  heir  of  wider  realms  than  mine — 

How  would  I  stretch  for  topmost  Himalay, 

Light  where  the  rose-gleam  lingers  on  those  snows, 

And  strain  my  gaze  with  searching  what  is  round! 

Why  have  I  never  seen  and  never  sought? 

Tell  me  what  lie-  beyond  our  brazen  gates." 

Then  one  replied  :  "  The  city  first,  fair  Prince! 
The  temple-,  and  the  gardens  and  the  groves, 
And  then  the  fields;  and  afterward  fresh  fields, 
With  nullahs,1  maid ans,8  jungle,  koss  on  koss;3 


i  Plains.        '  A  meaBun  of  length  about  equal  to  two  miles. 


304  HINDU  FOLK-LORE. 

And  next  King  Bimbasara's  realm,  and  then 
The  vast  flat  world,  with  crores  on  crores1  of  folk." 
"  Good,"  said  Siddartha ;  "  let  the  word  be  sent 
That  Channa  yoke  my  chariot — at  noon 
To-morrow  I  shall  ride  and  see  beyond." 

Whereof  they  told  the  King :  "  Onr  Lord,  thy  son 
Wills  that  his  chariot  be  yoked  at  noon, 
That  he  may  ride  abroad  and  see  mankind." 

"  Yea !  "  spake  the  careful  King,  "  'tis  time  he  see ; 
But  let  the  criers  go  about  and  bid 
My  city  deck  itself,  so  there  be  met 
No  noisome  sight ;  and  let  none  blind  or  maimed, 
None  that  is  sick,  or  stricken  deep  in  years, 
No  leper,  and  no  feeble  folk  come  forth." 
Therefore  the  stones  were  swept,  and  up  and  down 
The  water-carriers  sprinkled  all  the  streets 
From  spirting  skins,  the  housewives  scattered  fresh 
Eed  powder  on  their  thresholds,  strung  new  wreaths, 
And  trimmed  the  tulsi-bush  before  their  doors. 
The  paintings  on  the  walls  were  heightened  up 
With  liberal  brush,  the  trees  set  thick  with  flags, 
The  idols  gilded  ;  in  the  four- went  ways 
Suryadeva  and  the  great  gods  shone 
'Mid  shrines  of  leaves ;  so  that  the  city  seemed 
A  capital  of  some  tmchanted  land. 
Also  the  criers  passed,  with  drum  and  gong, 
Proclaiming  loudly  :  "  Ho  !  all  citizens, 
The  King  commands  that  there  be  seen  to-day 
No  evil  sight :  let  no  one  blind  or  maimed, 
None  that  is  sick,  or  stricken  deep  in  years, 
No  leper,  and  no  feeble  folk  go  forth. 
Let  none,  too,  burn  his  dead  nor  bring  them  out 
'Till  nightfall.     Thus  Suddhodana  commands." 

1  A  erore  is  equal  to  ten  millions. 


TEE  LIGHT  OF  ASIA.  SOS 

So  all  was  comely  and  the  houses  trim 
Throughout  Kapilavastu,  while  the  Prince 
Came  forth  in  painted  car,  which  two  steers  drew, 
Snow-white,  with  swinging  dewlaps,  and  huge  humps 
Wrinkled  against  the  carved  and  lacquered  yoke. 
Goodly  it  was  to  mark  the  people's  joy 
Greeting  their  Prince ;  and  glad  Siddartha  waxed 
At  sight  of  all  those  liege  and  friendly  folk 
Bright-clad  and  laughing  as  if  life  were  good. 
"  Fair  is  the  world,"  he  said,  "  it  likes  me  well ! 
And  light  aud  kind  these  men  that  are  not  kings, 
And  sweet  my  sisters  here,  who  toil  and  tend ; 
What  have  I  done  for  these  to  make  them  thus  ? 
Why,  if  I  love  them,  should  those  children  know? 
I  pray  take  up  yon  pretty  Sakya  boy 
Who  thing  us  flowers,  and  let  him  ride  with  me. 
How  good  it  is  to  reign  in  realms  like  this! 
How  .simple  pleasure  is,  if  these  be  pleased 
Because  I  come  abroad  !     How  many  things 
I  need  not  if  such  little  households  hold 
Enough  to  make  our  city  full  of  smiles! 
Drive,  Channa!  through  the  gates,  and  let  me  see 
More  of  this  gracious  world  I  have  not  known." 

So  passed  they  through  the  gates,  a  joyous  crowd 
Thronging  about  the  wheels,  whereof  some  ran 
Before  the  oxen,  throwing  wreaths;  some  stroked 
Their  silken  flanks  ;  some  brought  them  rice  and  cal 
All  crying,  "Jail  jai!1  for  our  noble  Prince!" 
Thus  all  the.  path  was  kept  with  gladsome  looks 
And  filled  with  fair  sights— for  the  King's  word  was 
That  such  should  he— when  midway  in  the  road, 
Slow  tottering  from  tin-  hovel  where  he  hid, 
Crept  forth  a  wretch  in  rags,  haggard  and  foul, 
An  old,  old  man,  whose  shriveled  skin,  sun-tanned, 


i  "Hail." 
FOLK-LORE  20 


306  HINDU  FOLK-LOBE. 

Clung  like  a  beast's  hide  to  his  fleshless  bones. 

Bent  was  his  back  with  load  of  many  days, 

His  eyepits  red  with  rust  of  ancient  tears, 

His  dim  orbs  blear  with  rheum,  his  toothless  jaws 

Wagging  with  palsy  and  the  fright  to  see 

So  many  and  such  joy.     One  skinny  hand 

Clutched  a  worn  staff  to  prop  his  quavering  limbs, 

And  one  was  pressed  upon  the  ridge  of  ribs 

Whence  came  in  gasps  the  heavy  painful  breath. 

"  Alms !  "  moaned  he,  "  give,  good  people  !  for  I  die 

To-morrow  or  the  next  day  !  "  then  the  cough 

Choked  him,  but  still  he  stretched  his  palm,  and  stood 

Blinking,  and  groaning  'mid  his  spasms,  "  Alms !  " 

Then  those  around  had  wrenched  his  feeble  feet 

Aside,  and  thrust  him  from  the  road  again, 

Saying,  "  The  Prince !  dost  see  ?  get  to  thy  lair ! " 

But  that  Siddartha  cried  :   "  Let  be  !  let  be  ! 

Channa !  what  thing  is  this  who  seems  a  man, 

Yet  surely  only  seems,  being  so  bowed, 

So  miserable,  so  horrible,  so  sad  ? 

Are  men  born  sometimes  thus  ?     What  meaneth  he 

Moaning  '  To-morrow  or  next  day  I  die  '  ? 

Finds  he  no  food  that  so  his  bones  jut  forth  ? 

What  woe  hath  happened  to  this  piteous  one  ?  " 

Then  answer  made  the  charioteer:  "  Sweet  Prince! 

This  is  no  other  than  an  aged  man ; 

Some  fourscore  years  ago  his  back  was  straight, 

His  eye  bright,  and  his  body  goodly  :  now 

The  thievish  years  have  sucked  his  sap  aw7ay, 

Pillaged  his  strength  and  filched  his  will  and  wit; 

His  lamp  has  lost  its  oil,  the  wick  burns  black  ; 

What  life  he  keeps  is  one  poor  lingering  spark 

Which  flickers  for  the  finish  :  such  is  age. 

AVhy  should  your  Highness  heed  ?  "     Then  spake  the  Prince 

"  But  shall  this  come  to  others,  or  to  all, 

Or  is  it  rare  that  one  should  be  as  he  ?  " 


THE  LIGHT  OF  ASIA.  307 

"  Most  noble,"  answered  Channa,  "  even  as  he, 

Will  all  these  grow  if  they  shall  live  so  long." 

"  But,"  quoth  the  Prince,  "  if  1  shall  live  as  long 

Shall  I  be  thus ;  and  if  Yasodhara 

Live  fourscore  years,  is  this  old  age  for  her, 

Jalini,  little  Hasta,  Gautami, 

And  Gunga,  and  the  others  ?  "     "  Yea,  great  Sir ! " 

The  charioteer  replied.     Then  spake  the  Prince  : 

"  Turn  back,  and  drive  me  to  my  house  again  ! 

I  have  seen  that  I  did  not  think  to  see." 

Which  pondering,  to  his  beauteous  Court  returned 
Wistful  Siddartha,  sad  of  mien  and  mood  : 
Nor  tasted  he  the  white  cakes  nor  the  fruits 
Spread  for  the  evening  feast,  nor  once  looked  up 
While  the  best  palace-dancers  strove  to  charm  : 
Nor  spake — save  one  sad  thing — when  wofully 
Yasodhara  sank  to  his  feet  and  wept, 
Sighing,  "Hath  not  my  Lord  comfort  in  me?" 
'•  Ah,  sweet !  "  he  said,  "  such  comfort  that  my  soul 
Aches,  thinking  it  must  end,  for  it  will  end, 
And  we  shall  both  grow  old,  Yasodhara  ! 
Loveless,  unlovely,  weak,  and  old,  and  bowed. 
Nay,  though  we  locked  up  love  and  life  with  lips 
So  close  that  uight  and  day  our  breaths  grew  one, 
Time  would  thrust  in  between  to  filch  away 
My  passion  ami  thy  grace,  as  black  Night  steals 
The  rose  gleams  from  yon  peak,  which  fade  to  gray 
And  are  not  seen  to  fade.     This  have  I  found, 
And  all  my  heart  is  darkened  with  its  dread, 
And  all  my  heart  is  fixed  to  think  how  Love 
Might  save  iis  sweetness  from  the  slayer,  Time, 
Who  makes  men  old."'    So  through  that,  night  he  sate 
Sleepless,  uncomforted. 

And  all  that  night 
The  King  Suddhddana  dreamed  troublous  dreams. 


308  HINDU  FOLK-LORE. 

The  first  fear  of  his  vision  was  a  flag 

Broad,  glorious,  glistening  with  a  golden  sun, 

The  mark  of  Indra ;  but  a  strong  wind  blew, 

Rending  its  folds  divine,  and  dashing  it 

Into  the  dust ;  whereat  a  concourse  came 

Of  shadowy  Ones,  who  took  the  spoiled  silk  up 

And  bore  it  eastward  from  the  city  gates. 

The  second  fear  was  ten  huge  elephants, 

With  silver  tusks  and  feet  that  shook  the  earth, 

Trampling  the  southern  road  in  mighty  march  ; 

And  he  who  sate  upon  the  foremost  beast 

Was  the  King's  son — the  others  followed  him. 

The  third  fear  of  the  vision  was  a  car, 

Shining  with  blinding  light,  which  four  steeds  drew, 

Snorting  white  smoke  and  champing  fiery  foam  ; 

And  in  the  car  the  Prince  Siddartha  sate. 

The  fourth  fear  was  a  wheel  which  turned  and  turned, 

With  nave  of  burning  gold  and  jeweled  spokes, 

And  strange  things  written  on  the  binding  tire, 

Which  seemed  both  fire  and  music  as  it  whirled. 

The  fifth  fear  was  a  mighty  drum,  set  down 

Midway  between  the  city  and  the  hills, 

On  which  the  Prince  beat  with  an  iron  mace, 

So  that  the  sound  pealed  like  a  thunderstorm, 

Rolling  around  the  sky  and  far  away. 

The  sixth  fear  was  a  tower,  which  rose  and  rose 

High  o'er  the  city  till  its  stately  head 

Shone  crowned  with  clouds,  and  on  the  top  the  Prince 

Stood,  scattering  from  both  hands,  this  way  and  that, 

Gems  of  most  lovely  light,  as  if  it  rained 

Jacynths  and  rubies ;  and  the  whole  world  came, 

Striving  to  seize  those  treasures  as  they  fell 

Towards  the  four  quarters.     But  the  seventh  fear  was 

A  noise  'of  wailing,  and  behold  six  men 

Who  wept  and  gnashed  their  teeth,  and  laid  their  palms 

Upon  their  mouths,  walking  disconsolate. 


THE  LIGHT  OF  ASIA.  309 

These  seven  fears  made  the  vision  of  his  sleep, 
But  none  of  all  his  wisest  dream-readers 
Could  tell  their  meaning.    Then  the  King  was  wroth, 
Saying,  "  There  cometh  evil  to  my  house, 
And  none  of  ye  have  wit  to  help  me  know 
What  the  great  gods  portend  sending  me  this." 
So  in  the  city  men  went  sorrowful 
Because  the  King  had  dreamed  seven  signs  of  fear 
Which  none  could  read  ;  but  to  the  gate  there  came 
An  aged  man,  in  robe  of  deer-skin  clad, 
By  guise  a  hermit,  known  to  none ;  he  cried, 
"  Bring  me  before  the  King,  for  I  can  read 
The  vision  of  his  sleep  "  ;  who,  when  he  heard 
The  sevenfold  mysteries  of  the  midnight  dream, 
Bowed  reverent,  and  said  :  "  0  Maharaj  ! 
I  hail  tins  favored  House,  whence  shall  arise 
A  wider-reaching  splendor  than  the  sun's  ! 
Lo  !  all  these  seven  fears  are  seven  joys, 
Whereof  the  first,  where  thou  didst  see  a  flag- 
Broad,  glorious,  gilt  with  [ndra's  badge— cast  down 
And  carried  out,  did  signify  the  end 
Of  old  faiths  and  beginning  of  the  new  ; 
For  there  is  change  with  gods  not  less  than  men, 
And  as  the  days  pass  kalpas  pass— at  length. 
The  ten  great  elephants  that  shook  the  earth 
The  ten  great  gifts  of  wisdom  signify, 
In  strength  whereof  the  Prince  shall  quit  his  state 
And  shake  the  world  with  passage  of  the  Truth. 
The  four  flame-breathing  horses  of  the  car 
Are  those  Eour  fearless  virtues  which  shall  bring 
Thy  son  from  doubt  and  gloom  to  gladsome  light. 
The  wheel  that  turned  with  nave  of  burning  gold 
Was  that  mo-t  precious  Wheel  of  perfect  Law 

Which  he  -hall  turn  in  Bighl  of  all  the  world. 
The  mighty  drum  whereon  the  Prince  did  beat, 
Till  the  sound  filled  all  lands,  doth  signify 


310  HINDU  FOLK-LORE. 

The  thunder  of  the  preaching  of  the  Word 

Which  he  shall  preach ;  the  tower  that  grew  to  heaven 

The  growing  of  the  Gospel  of  this  Buddh 

Sets  forth ;  and  those  rare  jewels  scattered  thence 

The  untold  treasures  are  of  that  good  Law 

To  gods  and  men  dear  and  desirable. 

Such  is  the  interpretation  of  the  tower ; 

But  for  those  six  men  weeping  with  shut  mouths, 

They  are  the  six  chief  teachers  whom  thy  son 

Shall,  with  bright  truth  and  speech  unanswerable, 

Convince  of  foolishness.     0  King  !  rejoice ; 

The  fortune  of  my  Lord  the  Prince  is  more 

Than  kingdoms,  and  his  hermit-rags  will  be 

Beyond  fine  cloths  of  gold.     This  was  thy  dream  ! 

And  in  seven  nights  and  days  these  things  shall  fall." 

So  spake  the  holy  man,  and  lowly  made 

The  eight  prostrations,  touching  thrice  the  ground  ; 

Then  turned  and  passed ;  but  when  the  King  bade  send 

A  rich  gift  after  him,  the  messengers 

Brought  word,  "  We  came  to  where  he  entered  in 

At  Chandra's  temple,  but  within  was  none 

Save  a  gray  owl  which  fluttered  from  the  shrine." 

The  gods  come  sometimes  thus. 

But  the  sad  King 
Marveled,  and  gave  command  that  new  delights 
Be  compassed  to  enthrall  Siddartha's  heart 
Amid  those  dancers  of  his  pleasure-house; 
Also  he  set  at  all  the  brazen  doors 
A  double  guard. 

Yet  who  shall  shut  out  Fate  ? 

For  once  again  the  spirit  of  the  Prince 
Was  moved  to  see  this  world  beyond  his  gates, 
This  life  of  man,  so  pleasant,  if  its  waves 
Ran  not  to  waste  and  woful  finishing 


THE  LIGHT  OF  ASIA.  311 

In  Time's  dry  sands.     "  I  pray  you,  let  me  view 

Our  city  as  it  is,"  such  was  his  prayer 

To  King  Suddhodana.     "  Your  Majesty 

In  tender  heed  hath  warned  the  folk  before 

To  put  away  ill  things  and  common  sights, 

And  make  their  faces  glad  to  gladden  me, 

And  all  the  causeways  gay ;  yet  have  I  learned 

This  is  not  daily  life,  and  if  I  stand 

Nearest,  my  father,  to  the  realm  and  thee, 

Fain  would  I  know  the  people  and  the  streets, 

Their  simple  usual  ways,  and  workday  deeds, 

And  lives  which  those  men  live  who  are  not  kings. 

Give  me  good  leave,  dear  Lord,  to  pass  unknown 

Beyond  my  happy  gardens ;  I  shall  come 

The  more  contented  to  their  peace  again, 

Or  wise'r,  father,  if  not  well  content. 

Therefore,  I  pray  thee,  let  me  go  at  will 

To-morrow,  with  my  servants,  through  the  streets." 

And  the  King  said,  among  his  Ministers: 

"  Belike  this  second  flight  may  mend  the  first. 

Note  how  the  falcon  starts  at  every  sight 

New  from  his  hood,  but  what  a  quiet  eye 

Cometh  of  freedom  ;  let  my  son  see  all, 

And  bid  them  bring  me 'tidings  of  his  mind." 

Thus  on  the  morrow  when  the  noon  was  come, 
The  Prince  and  Channa  passed  beyond  the  gates, 
Which  opened  to  the  signet  of  the  King ; 
Yet  knew  not  they  who  rolled  the  great  doors  back, 
It  was  the  King's  son  in  that  merchant's  robe, 
And  in  the  clerkly  dress  his  charioteer. 
Forth  fared  they  by  the  common  way  afoot, 
Mingling  with  all  the  Sakya  citizens, 
Seeing  the  glad  and  sad  things  of  the  town: 
The  painted  streets  alive  with  hum  of  noon, 
The  traders  cross-legged  'mid  their  spice  and  grain, 


312  HIKBV  FOLK-LOBE. 

The  buyers  with  their  money  in  the  cloth, 

The  war  of  words  to  cheapen  this  or  that, 

The  shout  to  clear  the  road,  the  huge  stone  wheels, 

The  strong  slow  oxen  and  their  rustling  loads, 

The  singing  bearers  with  the  palanquins, 

The  broad-necked  hamals  sweating  in  the  snn, 

The  housewives  bearing  water  from  the  well 

With  balanced  chatties,  and  athwart  their  hips 

The  black-eyed  babes ;  the  fly-swarmed  sweetmeat  shops, 

The  weaver  at  his  loom,  the  cotton-bow 

Twanging,  the  millstones  grinding  meal,  the  dogs 

Prowling  for  orts,  the  skilful  armorer 

With  tong  and  hammer  linking  shirts  of  mail, 

The  blacksmith  with  a  mattock  and  a  spear 

Reddening  together  in  his  coals,  the  school* 

Where  round  their  Guru,  in  a  grave  half-moon, 

The  Sakya  children  sang  the  mantras  through, 

And  learned  the  greater  and  the  lesser  gods ; 

The  dyers  stretching  waistcloths  in  the  sun 

Wet  from  the  vats — orange,  and  rose,  and  green ; 

The  soldiers  clanking  past  with  swords  and  shields, 

The  camel-drivers  rocking  on  the  humps, 

The  Brahman  proud,  the  martial  Kshatriya,1 

The  humble  toiling  Sudra  ;2  here  a  throng 

Gathered  to  watch  some  chattering  snake-tamer 

Wind  round  his  wrist  the  living  jewelry 

Of  asp  and  nag,3  or  charm  the  hooded  death 

To  angry  dance  with  drone  of  beaded  gourd  ; 

There  a  long  line  of  drums  and  horns,  which  went, 

With  steeds  gay  painted  and  silk  canopies, 

To  bring  the  young  bride  home  ;  and  here  a  wife 

Stealing  with  cakes  and  garlands  to  the  god 

To  pray  her  husband's  safe  return  from  trade, 

Or  beg  a  boy  next  birth  ;  hard  by  the  booths 

1  Soldier.  2  Laborer.  s  Snake. 


THE  LIGHT  OF  ASIA.  313 

Where  the  swart  potters  beat  the  noisy  brass 
For  lamps  and  lotas ; x  thence,  by  temple  walls 
And  gateways,  to  the  river  and  the  bridge 
Under  the  city  walls. 

These  had  they  passed, 
When  from  the  roadside  moaned  a  mournful  voice  : 
"  Help,  masters !  lift  me  to  my  feet ;  oh,  help  ! 
Or  I  shall  die  before  I  reach  my  house ! " 
A  stricken  wretch  it  was,  whose  quivering  frame, 
Caught  by  some  deadly  plague,  lay  in  the  dust 
Writhing,  with  fiery  purple  blotches  specked  : 
The  chill  sweat  beaded  on  his  brow,  his  mouth 
Was  dragged  awry  with  twitchings  of  sore  pain, 
The  wild  eyes  swam  with  inward  agony. 
Gasping,  he  clutched  the  grass  to  rise,  and  rose 
Half-way,  then  sank,  with  quaking  feeble  limbs 
And  scream  of  terror,  crying,  "  Ah,  the  pain  ! 
Good  people,  help  !  "  whereon  Sidddrtha  ran, 
Lifted  the  woful  man  with  tender  hands, 
With  sweet  looks  laid  the  sick  head  on  his  knee, 
And,  while  his  soft  touch  comforted  the  wretch, 
Asked  :  "  Brother,  what  is  ill  with  thee?  what  harm 
Ilaih  fallen  ?  wherefore «canst  thou  not  arise? 
Why  is  it,  Channa,  that  he  pants  and  moans, 
And  gasps  to  speak,  and  sighs  so  pitiful?" 
Then  spake  the  charioteer:  "Great  Prince!  this  man 
Is  smitten  with  some  pest;  his  elements 
Are  all  confounded  ;  in  his  veins  the  blood, 
Which  ran  a  wholesome  river,  leaps  and  boils 
A  fiery  flood  ;  his   heart,  which  kept  good  time, 
Beats  like  an  ill-played  drum-skin,  quick  and  slow; 

His  sinews  slacken  like  a  bowstring  slipped  ; 

The  strength  is  gone  from  ham,  and  loin,  and  neck, 

And  all  the  grace  and  joy  of  manhood  fled  ; 

1  \v    ela  for  earn  ins  n  ater. 


314  HINDU  FOLK-LOBE. 

This  is  a  sick  man  with  the  fit  upon  him. 

See  how  he  plucks  and  plucks  to  seize  his  grief, 

And  rolls  his  bloodshot  orbs,  and  grinds  his  teeth, 

And  draws  his  breath  as  if  'twere  choking  smoke  ! 

Lo !  now  he  would  be  dead ;  but  shall  not  die 

Until  the  plague  hath  had  its  work  in  him, 

Killing  the  nerves  which  die  before  the  life ; 

Then,  when  his  strings  have  cracked  with  agony, 

And  all  his  bones  are  empty  of  the  sense 

To  ache,  the  plague  will  quit  and  light  elsewhere. 

Oh,  sir  !  it  is  not  good  to  hold  him  so  ! 

The  harm  may  pass,  and  strike  thee,  even  thee." 

But  spake  the  Prince,  still  comforting  the  man: 

"And  are  there  others,  are  there  many  thus? 

Or  might  it  be  to  me  as  now  with  him  ?  " 

"  Great  Lord  !  "  answered  the  charioteer,  "  this  comes 

In  many  forms  to  all  men ;  griefs  and  wounds, 

Sickness  and  tetters,  palsies,  leprosies, 

Hot  fevers,  watery  wastings,  issues,  blains 

Befall  all  flesh  and  enter  everywhere." 

"  Come  such  ills  unobserved  ?  "  the  Prince  inquired. 

And  Channa  said  :  "  Like  the  sly  snake  they  come, 

That  stings  unseen  ;  like  the  striped  murderer, 

Who  waits  to  spring  from  the  Karunda  bush, 

Hiding  beside  the  jungle  path  ;  or  like 

The  lightning,  striking  these  and  sparing  those, 

As  chance  may  send." 

"  Then  all  men  live  in  fear : ' 
"  So  live  they,  Prince ! " 

"  And  none  can  say,  '  I  sleep 
Happy  and  whole  to-night,  and  so  shall  wake  ?'  " 
"  None  say  it." 

"  And  the  end  of  many  aches, 
Which  come  unseen,  and  will  come  when  they  come, 
Is  this,  a  broken  body  and  sad  mind, 
And  so  old  age?" 


THE  LIGHT  OF  ASIA.  315 

"  Yea,  if  men  last  as  long." 
"  But  if  they  cannot  bear  their  agonies, 
Or  if  they  will  not  bear,  and  seek  a  term ; 
Or  if  they  bear,  and  be,  as  this  man  is, 
Too  weak  except  for  groans,  and  so  still  live, 
And  growing  old,  grow  older,  then — what  end?" 
"  They  die,  Prince." 

"Die?" 

"  Yea,  at  the  last  comes  Death, 
In  whatsoever  way,  whatever  hour. 
Some  few  grow  old,  most  suffer  and  fall  sick, 
But  all  must  die — behold,  where  comes  the  Dead  !  " 

Then  did  Siddartha  raise  his  eyes,  and  see 
Fast  pacing  towards  the  river-brink  a  band 
Of  wailing  people  :  foremost  one  who  swung 
An  earthen  bowl  with  lighted  coals  ;  behind 
The  kinsmen,  shorn,  with  mourning  marks,  ungirt, 
Crying  aloud,  "  0  Rama,  Rama,  hear !  . 
Call  upon  Rama,  brothers";  next  the  bier, 
Knit  of  four  poles  with  bamboos  interlaced, 
Whereon  lay — stark  and  stiff,  feet  foremost,  lean, 
Chapfallen,  sightless,  hollow-flanked,  a-grin, 
Sprinkled  with  red  and  yellow  dust — the  Dead, 
Whom  at  the  four- went  ways  they  turned  head  first, 
And  crying,  "Rama,  Rama!"  carried  on 
To  where  a  pile  was  reared  beside  the  stream  : 
Thereon  they  laid  him,  building  fuel  up — 
Good  sleep  hath  one  that  slumbers  on  that  1km]  ! 
He  shall  not  wake  for  cold,  albeit  he  lies 
Naked  to  all  the  airs  —  for  soon  they  set 
The  red  flame  to  the  corners  four,  which  crept, 
And  licked,  and  flickered,  finding  out  his  flesh 
And  feeding  on  it  with  swift,  hissing  tongues, 
And  crackle  of  parched  skin,  and  snap  of  joint; 
Till  the  fat  smoke  thinned  and  the  ashes  sank 


316  HINDU  FOLK-LORE. 

Scarlet  and  gray,  with  here  and  there  a  bone 
White  midst  the  gray — the  total  of  the  man. 

Then  spake  the  Prince :  "  Is  this  the  end  which  comes 

To  all  who  live?" 

"  This  is  the  end  that  comes 

To  all,"  quoth  Channa  ;  "  he  upon  the  pyre — 

Whose  remnants  are  so  petty  that  the  crows 

Caw  hungrily,  then  quit  the  fruitless  feast — 

Ate,  drank, laughed,  loved,  and  lived,  and  liked  life  well. 

Then  came — who  knows? — some  gust  of  jungle  wind, 

A  stumble  on  the  path,  a  taint  in  the  tank, 

A  snake's  nip,  half  a  span  of  angry  steel, 

A  chill,  a  fishbone,  or  a  falling  tile, 

And  life  was  over  and  the  man  is  dead. 

No  appetites,  no  pleasures,  and  no  pains 

Hath  such  ;  the  kiss  upon  his  lips  is  naught, 

The  fire-scorch  naught ;  he  smelleth  not  his  flesh 

A-roast,  nor  yet  the  sandal  and  the  spice 

They  burn ;  the  taste  is  emptied  from  his  mouth, 

The  hearing  of  his  ears  is  clogged,  the  sight 

Is  blinded  in  his  eyes ;  those  whom  he  loved 

Wail  desolate,  for  even  that  must  go, 

The  body  which  was  lamp  unto  the  life, 

Or  worms  will  have  a  horrid  feast  of  it. 

Here  is  the  common  destiny  of  flesh ; 

The  high  and  low,  the  good  and  bad,  must  die, 

And  then,  'tis  taught,  begin  anew  and  live 

Somewhere,  somehow — who  knows? — and  so  again 

The  pangs,  the  parting,  and  the  lighted  pile : 

Such  is  man's  round." 

But  lo  !  Siddartha  turned 
Eyes  gleaming  with  divine  tears  to  the  sky, 
Eyes  lit  with  heavenly  pity  to  the  earth  ; 
From  sky  to  earth  he  looked,  from  earth  to  sky, 
As  if  his  spirit  sought  in  lonely  flight 
Some  far-off  vision,  linking  this  and  that, 


THE  LIGHT  OF  ASIA.  317 

Lost— past— but  searchable,  but  seen,  but  known. 
Then  cried  he,  while  his  lifted  countenance 
Glowed  with  the  burning  passion  of  a  love 
Unspeakable,  the  ardor  of  a  hope 
Boundless,  insatiate  :  "  Oh  !  suffering  world  ; 
Oh !  known  and  unknown  of  my  common  flesh, 
Caught  in  this  common  net  of  death  and  woe, 
And  life  which  binds  to  both !  I  see,  I  feel 
The  vastness  of  the  agony  of  earth, 
The  vainness  of  its  joys,  the  mockery 
Of  all  its  best,  the  anguish  of  its  worst ; 
Since  pleasures  end  in  pain,  and  youth  in  age, 
And  love  in  loss,  and  life  in  hateful  death, 
And  death  in  unknown  lives,  which  will  but  yoke 
Men  to  their  wheel  again  to  whirl  the  round 
Of  false  delights  and  woes  that  are  not  false. 
Me  too  this  lure  hath  cheated,  so  it  seemed 
Lovely  to  live,  and  life  a  sunlit  stream 
Forever  flowing  in  a  changeless  peace  ; 
Whereas  the  foolish  ripple  of  the  flood 
Dances  so  lightly  down  by  bloom  and  lawn 
Only  to  pour  its  crystal  rpiicklier 
[nto  the  foul  salt  sea.     The  veil  is  rent 
Which  blinded  me!     I  am  as  all  these  men 
Who  cry  up'.]]  their  gods  and  are  not  heard, 
Or  are  not  heeded — yet  there  must  be  aid  ! 
For  them  and  me  and  all  there  musl  be  help! 
Perchance  the  gods  have  need  of  help  themselves, 
Being  so  feeble  thai  when  sad  lips  cry 
They  can  not  save  !     I  would  not  let  one  cry 
Whom  1  could  save  !     How  can  it  he  that  Brahm 
Would  make  a  world  and  keep  it  miserable, 
Since,  if,  all-powerful,  lie  leaves  \\    o, 

II,.  i-  not  good,  and  if  HOt  powerful, 

He  is  not  Cod  ?-  -Channa!  lead  home  again  ! 
It  is  enough  !  mine  eyes  have  seen  enough  ! " 


S18  HINDU  FOLK-LOBE. 

Which  when  the  King  heard,  at  the  gates  he  set 
A  triple  guard  ;  and  bade  no  man  should  pass 
By  day  or  night,  issuing  or  entering  in, 
Until  the  days  were  numbered  of  that  dream. 


THE    GOD    AND   THE    BAYADERE. 

BY  JOHANN  WOLFGANG  VON  GOETHE. 
(TRANSLATED  BY  EDGAR  ALFRED  BOWRING.) 

Mahadeva,  Lord  of  earth, 

For  the  sixth  time  comes  below, 
As  a  man  of  mortal  birth — 

Like  him,  feeling  joy  and  woe. 
Hither  loves  he  to  repair, 

And  his  power  behind  to  leave ; 
If  to  punish  or  to  spare, 

Men  as  man  he'd  fain  perceive. 
And  when  he  the  town  as  a  trav'ler  hath  seen, 
Observing  the  mighty,  regarding  the  mean, 
He  quits  it,  to  go  on  his  journey,  at  eve. 

He  was  leaving  now  the  place, 

When  an  outcast  met  his  eyes — 
Fair  in  form,  with  painted  face — 

Where  some  straggling  dwellings  rise. 
"  Maiden,  hail  !  " — "  Thanks  !  welcome  here  ! 
Stay ! — I'll  join  thee  in  the  road." 
"  Who  art  thou  ?  "— "  A  Bayadere, 
And  this  house  is  love's  abode." 
The  cymbal  she  hastens  to  play  for  the  dance, 
Well  skill'd  in  its  mazes  the  sight  to  entrance, 
Then  by  her  with  grace  is  the  nosegay  bestow'd. 

Then  she  draws  him,  as  in  play, 
O'er  the  threshold  eagerly  : 


THE  GOD  AND   THE  BAYADERE.        319 

"  Beauteous  stranger,  light  as  day 

Thou  shalt  soon  this  cottage  see. 
I'll  refresh  thee,  if  thou'rt  tired, 

And  will  bat  lie  thy  weary  feet ; 
Take  whate'er  by  thee's  desired, 
Toying,  rest,  or  rapture  sweet." — 
She  busily  seeks  his  feign'd  suff'rings  to  ease; 
Then  smiles  the  Immortal ;  with  pleasure  he  sees 
That  with  kindness  a  heart  so  corrupted  can  beat. 

And  he  makes  her  act  the  part 

Of  a  slave  ;  he's  straight  obey'd. 
What  at  first  had  been  but  art, 

Soon  is  nature  in  the  maid. 
By  degrees  the  fruit  we  find, 

Where  the  buds  at  first  obtain  ; 
When  obedience  fills  the  mind, 
Love  will  never  far  remain. 
I)ii t  sharper  and  sharper  the  maiden  to  prove, 
The  Discerner  of  all  things  below  and  above, 
Feigns  pleasure,  and  horror,  and  maddening  pain. 

And  her  painted  cheeks  he  kie 

And  his  vows  her  heart  enthrall; 
Peeling  love's  sharp  pangs  and  blisses, 

Soon  her  tears  begin  to  fall. 
At  his  feel  she  uow  must  sink, 
Not  with  thoughts  of  lust  or  gain — 
And  her  slender  members  shrink, 
And  devoid  of  power  remain. 
And  jo  the  bright  hours  with  gladness  prepare 
Their  dark,  pleasing  veil  of  a  texture  jo  fair, 
And  over  the  couch  softly,  tranquilly  reign. 

-he  falls  a  deep,  thus  bless'd — 
Early  waki  -.  her  slumbers  Bed, 
And  she  finds  the  much-loved  guesi 
<  >n  her  bosom  lying  dead. 


320  HINDU  FOLK-LORE. 

Screaming  falls  she  on  him  there, 

But,  alas,  too  late  to  save  ! 
And  his  rigid  limbs  they  bear 
Straightway  to  their  fiery  grave. 
Then  hears  .she  the  priests  and  the  funeral  song, 
Then  madly  she  runs  and  she  severs  the  throng : 

"Why press  tow'rd  the  pile  thus?     Why  scream  thus, and 
rave  ?  " 

Then  she  sinks  beside  his  bier, 

And  her  screams  through  air  resound : 
"  I  must  seek  my  spouse  so  dear, 

E'en  if  in  the  grave  he's  bound. 
Shall  those  limbs  of  grace  divine 

Fall  to  ashes  in  my  sight? 
Mine  he  was  !     Yes,  only  mine  ! 
Ah,  one  single  blissful  night !  " 
The  priests  chaunt  in  chorus  :  "We  bear  out  the  old, 
When  long  they've  been  weary,  and  late  they've  grown  cold ; 
We  bear  out  the  young,  too,  so  thoughtless  and  light. 

"  To  thy  priests'  commands  give  ear ! 

This  one  was  thy  husband  ne'er ; 
Live  still  as  a  Bayadere, 

And  no  duty  thou  need'st  share. 
To  death's  silent  realms  from  life, 

None  but  shades  attend  man's  frame ; 
With  the  husband,  none  but  wife — 
That  is  duty,  that  is  fame. 
Ye  trumpets,  your  sacred  lament  haste  to  raise ! 
Oh,  welcome,  ye  gods,  the  bright  luster  of  days ! 
Oh,  welcome  to  heaven  the  youth  from  the  flame !  " 

Thus  increased  her  torments  are 

By  the  cruel,  heartless  quire ; 
And  with  arms  outstretching  far 

Leaps  she  on  the  glowing  pyre. 


JAGA-XAUT.  321 

But  the  youth  divine  outsprings 

From  the  flame  with  heav'nly  grace, 

And  on  high  his  flight  he  wings, 

While  his  arms  his  love  embrace. 

In  the  sinner  repentant  the  Godhead  feels  joy; 

Immortals  delight  thus  their  might  to  employ, 

Lost  children  to  raise  to  a  heavenly  place. 


JAGA-NAUT. 

BY   ROBERT   SOUTHEY. 

I. 

Joy  in  the  City  of  great  Jaga-Xaut ! 

Joy  in  the  seven-headed  Idol's  shrine  ! 
A  Virgin-bride  his  ministers  have  brought, 
A  mortal  Maid,  in  form  and  face  divine, 
Peerless  among  all  daughters  of  mankind  ; 
Searched  they  the  world  again  from  East  to  West, 
In  endless  quest, 
Seeking  the  fairest  and  the  best, 
X"  maid  so  lovely  mighl  they  hope  to  find  ; 
I  bath  breathed  celestial  air, 

And  heavenly  food  hath  been  her  fare, 
And  heavenly  thoughts  and  feelings  give  her  face 

That  heavenly  grace. 
Joy  in  the  <  'ii>  of  great  Jaga-Naul  ! 

Joy  in  the  Beven-headed  [dol's  shrine  ! 
The  fairesl  Maid  his  Yoguees  sought  ; 
A  fairer  than  the  fairesl  have  they  brought — 
A  Maid  of  charms  surpassing  human  thought, 
A  Maid  divine. 

1 1. 
Now  bring  ye  forth  the  chariol  of  the  God  ! 
Bring  him  abroad, 

FOLK-LOBE   21 


322  1ILKDTJ  FOLK-LORE. 

That  through  the  swarming  City  ho  may  ride ; 
And  hy  his  side 
Biace  ye  the  Maid  of  more  than  mortal  grace, 
That  Maid  of  perfect  form  and  heavenly  face  ; 
Set  her  aloft  in  triumph,  like  a  bride 
<      Upon  the  Bridal  Car, 
And  spread  the  joyful  tidings  wide  and  far — 
Spread  it  with  trump  and  voice, 
That  all  may  hear,  and  all  who  hear  rejoice — 
Great  Jaga-Naut  hath  found  his  mate  !  the  God 

Will  ride  abroad  ! 
To-night  will  he  go  forth  from  his  abode  ! 
Ye  myriads  who  adore  him, 
Prepare  the  way  before  him  ! 

in. 

Upreared  on  twenty  wheels  elate, 
Huge  as  a  Ship,  the  Bridal  Car  appeared  : 
Loud  creak  its  ponderous  wheels,  as  through  the  gate 
A  thousand  Bramins  drag  the  enormous  load. 

There  throned  aloft  in  state 
The  Image  of  the  seven-headed  God 
Came  forth  from  his  abode  ;  and  at  his  side 

Sat  Kailyal  like  a  bride. 
A  bridal  statue  rather  might  she  seem, 
For  she  regarded  all  things  like  a  dream, 
Having  no  thought  nor  fear  nor  will,  nor  aught 
Save  hope  and  faith  that  lived  within  her  still. 

IV. 

0  silent  Night !  how  have  they  startled  thee 

With  the  brazen  trumpet's  blare  ! 
And  thou,  0  Moon  !  whose  quiet  light  serene 
Filleth  wide  heaven,  and,  bathing  hill  and  wood, 
Spreads  o'er  the  peaceful  valley  like  a  flood. 


JAGA-NMJT.  323 

How  have  they  dimmed  thee  with  the  torches'  glare, 
Which  round  yon  moving  pageant  flame  and  flare, 
As  the  wild  rout,  with  deafening  song  and  shout, 

Fling  their  long  flashes  out, 
That,  like  infernal  lightnings,  fire  the  air. 

v. 

A  thousand  pilgrims  strain 
Arm,  shoulder,  breast,  and  thigh,  with  might  and  main, 

To  drag  that  sacred  wain, 
And  scarce  can  draw  along  the  enormous  load. 
Prone  fall  the  frantic  votaries  in  its  road, 

Ami,  culling  on  the  God, 
Their  self-devoted  bodies  there  they  lay 

To  pave  his  chariot-way. 

On  Jaga-Naut  they  call : 
The  ponderous  Car  rolls  on,  and  crushes  all. 
Through  flesh  and  bones  it  plows  its  dreadful  path. 
Groans  rise  unheard  ;  the  dying  cry, 

And  death  and  agony 
Are  trodden  under  fool  by  yon  mad  throng, 
Who  follow  close  ami  thrust  the  deadly  wheels  along. 

VI. 

Pale  grows  the  Maid  at  this  accursed  sight; 
Tin-  yells  which  round  her  rise 
Have  roused  her  with  affright, 

Ami   fear  hath  given  to  her  dilated  e\e- 

\  wilder  light. 
Where  shall  those  eye-  he  turned?    She  knows  not  where! 

Downward  they  dare  not  look,  for  there 

I    deal  li  and  horror  and  despair  ; 
Nor  can  her  patienl  looks  to  Heaven  repair, 
For  the  huge  Idol  over  her  in  air. 
Spreads  his  seven  hideous  head-,  and  wide 
Extends  their  snaki  necks  on  every  side; 


824  HINDU  FOLK-LORE. 

And  all  around,  behind,  before 
The  Bridal  Car,  is  the  raging  rout, 
.    With  frantic  shout  and  deafening  roar, 
Tossing  the  torches'  flames  about. 
And  the  double  double  peals  of  the  drum  are  there, 
And  the  startling  burst  of  the  trumpet's  blare; 
And  the  gong,  that  seems,  with  its  thunders  dread, 
To  astound  the  living  and  waken  the  dead. 
The  ear-strings  throb  as  if  they  were  rent, 
And  the  eyelids  drop  as  stunned  and  spent. 
Fain  would  the  Maid  have  kept  them  fast ; 
But  open  they  start  at  the  crack  of  the  blast. 

VII. 

Where  art  thou,  Son  of  Heaven,  Ereenia !  where, 
In  this  dread  hour  of  horror  and  despair? 
Thinking  on  him,  she  strove  her  fear  to  quell : 
If  he  be  near  me,  then  will  all  be  well ; 
And  if  he  reck  not  for  my  misery, 
Let  come  the  worst ;  it  matters  not  to  me. 
Repel  that  wrongful  thought, 

0  Maid  !  thou  feelest,  but  believ'st  it  not; 

It  is  thine  own  imperfect  nature's  fault 
That  lets  one  doubt  of  him  arise  within  ;  . 
And  this  the  Virgin  knew,  and  like  a  sin 
Repelled  the  thought,  and  still  believed  him  true, 
And  summoned  up  her  spirit  to  endure 
All  forms  of  fear,  in  that  firm  trust  secure. 


BRAHMA. 

BY    RALPH    WALDO   EMERSON. 

If  the  red  slayer  think  he  slays, 
Or  if  the  slain  think  he  is  slain, 

They  know  not  well  the  subtle  ways 
I  keep,  and  pass,  and  turn  again. 


BRAHMA.  325 

Far  or  forgot  to  me  is  near ; 

Shadow  and  sunlight  are  the  same  ; 
The  vanished  gods  to  me  appear ; 

And  one  to  me  are  shame  and  fame. 

They  reckon  ill  who  leave  me  out ; 

When  me  they  fly,  I  am  the  wings; 
1  am  the  doubter  and  the  doubt, 

And  I  the  hymn  the  Brahman  sings. 

The  strong  gods  pine  for  my  abode, 
And  pine  in  vain  the  sacred  Seven; 

But  thou,  meek  lover  of  the  good, 
Find  me  and  turn  thy  back  on  heaven. 


SYRIAN  AND   ASSYRIAN  FOLK-LORE. 

Numerous  references  are  made  in  the  Bible  to  the  gods 
of  the  Canaanites,  Philistines,  and  Phoenicians,  with  which 
peoples  the  Israelites  of  Old  Testament  history  waged  fre- 
quent war. 

Moloch  was  the  most  notable  of  the  Syrian  gods.  Upon 
his  altars  were  offered  countless  victims,  children  being 
deemed  the  most  acceptable  sacrifices. 

First,  Moloch,  horrid  king,  besmear'd  with  blood 
Of  human  sacrifice,  and  parents'  tears. 

— 31ilfon,s  "Paradise  Lost." 

Baal  was  the  name  under  which  the  same  divinity  was 
worshiped  by  the  Phoenicians  and  others. 

And  the  widows  of  Ashur  are  loud  in  their  wail, 
And  the  idols  are  broke  in  the  temple  of  Baal. 

— Byron's  "Destruction  of  Sennacherib." 

Astarte,  Astoreth,  Ashtaroth,  or  Ishtar  was  the  famous 
goddess  of  the  Phoenician  coast.  Representing  the  moon, 
she  was  depicted  as  crowned  with  a  crescent. 

With  these  in  troop 
Came  Astoreth,  whom  the  Phoenicians  call'd 
Astarte.  queen  of  heav'n,  with  crescent  horns ; 
To  whose  bright  image  nightly  by  the  moon, 
Sidonian  virgins  paid  their  vows  and  songs. 

— Milton's  "Paradise  Lost." 

Dagon  was  the  principal  deity  of  the  Philistines.  He 
was  represented  as  half  man,  half  fish. 


SYRIAN  AND  ASSYBIAjY  FOLK-LORE.    327 

Next  came  one 
Who  mourned  in  earnest,  when  the  captive  ark 
Maim'd  his  brute  image;  head  and  hands  lopt  off. 

Dagoii  his  name  ;  sea  monster;  upward  man, 
And  downward  fish.  -Milton's  -Paradise  Lost" 

And  when  they  arose  early  on  the  morrow  morning,  behold,  Dagon 
was  fallen  upon  his  face  to  the  ground  before  the  ark  of  the  Lord  ;  and 
the  head  of  Dagon  and  both  the  palms  of  his  hands  were  cut  off  upon 
the  threshold.— /j'''''  .  /  Sa  * 

Til  a  mm  rz  was  a  Syrian  god,  who  became  incorporated 
into  the  mythology  of  the  Greeks  and  Romans  under  the 
name  of  Adonis.  His  death  by  a  ferocious  boar,  which  he 
was  hunting,  was  observed  with  ceremonies  of  a  solemn  char- 
acter by  the  yonng. 

Thammuz  eame  next  behind, 
Whose  annual  wound  in  Lebanon  allur'd 
The  Syrian  damsels  to  lament  his  !.. 
In  amorous  ditties  all  a  summer's  day. 
While  smooth  Adonis  from  his  native  rock 
Ran  purple  to  the  sea,  supposed  with  blood 
Of  Thammuz  yearly  wounded. 

— Milton's  "Paradise  Lost.'" 

May  yon  Irani  the  t\r-t  use  of  a  lock  on  your  door, 
And  ne'er,  like  Adonis,  be  killed  by  a  bore. 

— Saxe'8  •"  I '<i.--t-  /'rami in, 

(  uemosh  was  the  national  god  of  the  Moabites,  also  of 

the  Ammonites, though  Moloch,  il  appears,  was  also  their] I. 

Perhaps  they  wore  differenl  names  for  the  same  divinity. 

Then  did  Solomon  build  an  high  place  for  Chemosh,  the  abomina- 
tion of  Moab,  in  the  hill  thai  is  before  Jerusalem,  and  b>r  Molech,  the 
nation  of  i he  children  of  Ammon. — BibU ,  /  A  • 

1,'imm'in  v.a !  a  Syrian  idol 

When  my  master  -_'•  -« - 1 1 »  into  the  house  of  Riromon  to  worship  there, 
and  he  leaneth  on  my  hand,  and  I  bow  myself  in  the  b<  mmon  : 

when  I  bow  down  myself  in  the  h  B  mmon,  the  Lord  pardon  thy 

oit  in  this  thing.     Bib  '■    II  A 


328    SYRIAN  AND  ASSYRIAN  FOLK-LORE. 

The  Assyrians  (including  the  Babylonians)  were  gross 
idolators,  worshiping  various  symbols  of  the  heavenly  bodies, 
and  enormous  images  of  such  monstrosities  as  winged,  hu- 
man-headed bulls  and  lions,  etc. 

Il,  or  Asshur,  seems  to  have  represented  their  highest 
ideal  of  divinity,  but  was  too  far  removed  from  the  people  to 
be  very  generally  worshiped. 

Shamas,  or  San,  represented  the  sun,  and  Sin  the  moon. 

Ni»  (the  man-bull)  and  Nergal  (the  man-lion),  Bel, 
and  Nebo  were  the  most  popular  deities,  though  there  were 
many  others  which  shared  with  them  the  divine  honors. 

And  the  men  of  Cuth  made  Nergal. 

— Bible,  II  Kings  xvii,  30. 

Bel  boweth  down,  Nebo  stoopeth. 

— Bible,  Isaiah  xlvi,  1. 

Ishtar  and  Beltis  were  the  principal  goddesses. 

Tamzi  was  the  hero  of  the  deluge,1  in  the  Assyrian  ac- 
counts of  that  event. 

Izdubar  is  the  person  addressed  by  Tamzi,  in  his  narra- 
tive of  the  flood,  and  is  himself  a  mythical  hero.  The  two 
are  often  confounded. 

"  I  have  wandered  lone  and  far 
As  the  ship  of  Izdubar, 
When  the  gathered  waters  rose 
High  on  Nizir's  mountain  snows, 
Drifting  where  the  torrent  sped, 
Over  life  and  glory  dead. 

Hear  me  now !     I  stretch  my  hands 
From  the  moon-sea  of  the  sands 
Unto  thee,  or  any  star 
That  was  guide  to  Izdubar!" 

— Bayard  Taylor's  '•'■Assyrian  Night- Song." 


1  Legends  of  a  great  deluge  are  found  in  the  folk-lore  of  almost  all  nations 
and  tribes  of  men,  and  offer  a  strong  proof  of  the  unity  of  the  race. 


SYRIAN  AND  ASSYRIAN  FOLK-LORE.   329 

The  folk-lore  of  the  East  abounds  in  wild  and  incredible 
tales  of  ancient  Assyrian  monarchs.  Sonic  of  the  latter  have 
been  identified  with  historical  characters,  Thus  the  NiNUS 
of  story  is  supposed  to  have  been  Tiglathinin,  and  the  myth- 
ical Sr.MiiiAMis  is  thought  to  have  been  a  Babylonian  prin- 
cess, the  wife  of  Vnllush  III. 

Sennacherib  has  a  place  in  Bible  history,  through  the 
mysterious  destruction  in  a  single  night  of  the  vast  army 
which  he  sent  against  the  King  of  Judah. 

And  it  came  to  pass  thai  night,  thai  the  ange]  of  the  Lord  went  out, 
and  smote  in  the  camp  of  the  Assyrians  a  hundred  fourscore  and  five 
thousand:  and  when  they  arose  early  in  the  morning,  behold,  they  were 
all  dead  corpses.  So  Sennacherib  king  of  Assyria  departed,  and  went 
and  returned,  and  dwell  at  Nineveh,— -St'We,  //  Kings  xix,  S5,'S6. 

Under  the  name  Sardana  i'\u  s,  the  Greek  writers  seem 
to  have  confounded  three  Assyrian  monarchs,  including  the 
if  the  royal  line  (who  was  overthrown  by  the  Baby- 
lonians, 625  B.C.).  According  to  an  ancient  prophecy,  it  is 
related  that  the  city  of  Nineveh  was  to  endure  until  the 
Tigris  should  prove  its  foe;  and  the  rising  of  the  river  is 
said  to  have  led  to  its  destruction. 

NOTES    OF     LITERATURE    RELATING    TO    AS8YRIAN    FOLK-LORE. 

The  greal  library  of  Assurbanipal  V  (sometimes  designated  as  Sar- 
danapalus  II)  contained  as  manj  as  ten  thousand  tablets  of  brick  and 
atone,  covered  with  finely  carved  letters.     Many  of  the  compositions 

were  copied  from  older  records  taken  from  Babylon.    Perhaps >ne  of 

the  many  remarkable  achievements  of  phili  n  recenl  year-  lias 

been  hailed  with  greater  interest  than  the  translation  (bj  George  Smith. 
1871)  of  the  tablets  containing  the  story  of  Tamzi  (the  son  of  CTbaratntu), 
copied  (660  b.c.)  from  records  originally  gathered  and  committed  to 
writing  very  much  earlier  perhaps  1000  B.  a,  possibly  oven  2000  b.  c. 
From  this  tran  >lat  ion  is  taken  the  following  extract : 

i  nights  passed;  i In-  wind,  deluge,  and  storm,  over- 
whelmed. On  the  seventh  day,  in  it  com  e,  wa  calmed  the  storm; 
and  all  the  deluge,  which  had  destroyed  like  an  earthquake,  quieted. 
The  sea  he  caused  to  dry,  and  the  wind  and  deluge  em  led. 


330    SYRIAN  AND  ASSYRIAN  FOLK-LORE. 

"  I  perceived  the  sea  making  a  tossing ;  and  the  whole  of  mankind 
turned  to  corruption  ;  like  reeds  the  corpses  floated.  I  opened  the 
window,  and  the  light  broke  over  my  face  ;  it  passed.  I  sat  down  and 
wept:  over* my  face  flowed  my  tears.  I  perceived  the  shore  at  the 
boundary  of  the  sea ;  for  twelve  measures  the  land  rose. 

"  To  the  country  of  Nizir  went  the  ship.  The  mountain  of  Nizir 
stopped  the  ship ;  and  to  pass  over  it  it  was  not  able.  The  first  day. 
and  the  second  day,  the  mountain  of  Nizir  the  same.  The  third  day, 
and  the  fourth  day,  the  mountain  of  Nizir  the  same.  The  fifth  and 
sixth,  the  mountain  of  Nizir  the  same.  On  the  seventh  day,  in  the 
course  of  it,  I  sent  forth  a  dove,  and  it  left.  The  dove  went  and  turned, 
and  a  resting-place  it  did  not  find,  and  it  returned. 

"  I  sent  forth  a  swallow,  and  it  left.  The  swallow  went  and  turned 
and  a  resting  place  it  did  not  find,  and  it  returned. 

"  1  sent  forth  a  raven,  and  it  left.  The  raven  went,  and  the  decrease 
of  the  water  it  saw,  and  it  did  eat,  it  swam,  and  wandered  away,  and 
did  not  return. 

"  I  sent  the  animals  forth  to  the  four  winds." 

In  the  library  of  Assurbanipal  V  were  books  of  history,  law,  science, 
grammar,  and  poetry.  The  works  of  science  reveal  a  surprising  knowl- 
edge of  the  principles  of  botany,  zoology,  and  astronomy.  Many  of  the 
tablets  were  copied  from  older  Babylonian  records.  This  vast  collection 
of  literary  treasures  fell  into  ruin  with  the  great  city  of  which  it  was  the 
pride. 

The  recovery  of  important  Assyrian  records  is  an  event  of  the  pres- 
ent century,  due  chiefly  to  the  untiring  energy  of  Austen  Henry  Layard, 
the  English  archaeologist ;  and  the  deciphering  of  the  tablets  thus  se- 
cured has  engaged  the  efforts  of  various  distinguished  scholars. 

Until  the  recovery  of  the  ancient  records  by  Layard,  our  knowledge 
of  Assyrian  history  and  legend  was  acquired  through  the  Bible  and  the 
works  of  ancient  Greek  and  Roman  authors. 

Diodorus  Siculus,  a  Roman  writer  of  the  first  century  B.  c,  wrote  a 
romantic  legendary  account  of  Sardanapalus.  which  forms  the  basis  of  a 
tragedy  by  Lord  Byron  (1821).  The  loss  of  the  army  of  Sennacherib  is 
the  subject  of  an  admired  short  poem  by  Byron. 

Bayard  Taylor's  poem,  Tyre,  recalls  the  prophecy  of  Scripture  relat- 
ing to  that  city,  which  belonged  for  a  time  to  the  Assyrian  Empire. 

George  Rawlinson's  Ancient  Monarchies  and  Religions  of  the  An- 
cient World.  Layard's  Nineveh  and  its  Remains,  and  George  Smith's 
Chaldean  Account  of  Genesis  are  valuable  modern  works  relating  to 
Assyrian  history  and  mythology. 


SABDA.YAPALUS.  331 


SARDANAPALUS. 
(A  Tragedy.) 

BY   LORD    BYRON. 
ACT    V. 


Dramatis  Persona.— Sardanapalus,  King  of  Assyria  ;  Arbaces,  the  Mede 
who  aspired  to  the  throne;  Beleses, a  Chaldean  and  soothsayer;  Sa- 
Lemenes,  the  King's  brother-in-law;  Altada,  an  Assyrian  officer  of 
the  palace;  Zarina,  the  Queen;  JAyrrha,  an  Ionian  (Greek)  female 
slave,  the  favorite  of  Sardanapalus ;  Pania,  Zames,  Sfero,  Balea,  at- 
tendants; herald,  guards,  officers,  soldiers. 

Scene  I. — Hall  in  the  Palace. 
Myeeb  \  and  Balea. 

Myr.  {at  a  window).     The  day  at  last  lias  broken.    What 
a  nighl 
Hath  ushered  it  !     Bow  beautiful  in  heaven! 
Though  varied  with  a  transitory  storm, 
More  beautiful  in  that  variety! 
How  hideous  upon  earth!  where  peace  and  hope, 
And  love  and  revel,  in  an  hour  were  trampled 
By  human  passions  to  a  human  cha< 
Not  vet  resolved  to  separate  elements — 

varring  still  !     And  can  the  sun  so  rise, 
So  bright,  bo  rolling  hark  the  clouds  into 
Vapors  more  lovely  than  the  unclouded  Bky, 
With  golden  pinnacles,  and  snowy  mountains, 
And  billows  purpler  than  th<  ocean's,  making 
In  heaven  a  glorious  mockery  of  the  earth, 
So  like  we  almost  deem  it  permanent  ; 
So  fleeting,  we  can  scarcely  call  it  aughl 
Beyond  a  \  ision,  'tis  so  t  ransiently 
Scattered  alone  the  eternal  vault  :  and  yet 


332    SYRIAN  AND  ASSYRIAN  FOLK-LORE. 

It  dwells  upon  the  soul  and  soothes  the  soul, 

And  blends  itself  into  the  soul,  until 

Sunrise  and  sunset  form  the  haunted  epoch 

Of  sorrow  and  of  love ;  which  they  who  mark  not, 

Know  not  the  realms  where  those  twin  genii 

(Who  chasten  and  who  purify  our  hearts, 

So  that  we  would  not  change  their  sweet  rebukes 

For  all  the  boisterous  joys  that  ever  shook 

The  air  with  clamor)  build  the  palaces 

Where  their  fond  votaries  repose  and  breathe 

Briefly  ;  but  in  that  brief  cool  calm  inhale 

Enough  of  heaven  to  enable  them  to  bear 

The  rest  of  common,  heavy,  human  hours 

And  dream  them  through  in  placid  sufferance ; 

Though  seemingly  employed  like  all  the  rest 

Of  toiling  breathers  in  allotted  tasks 

Of  pain  or  pleasure,  two  names  for  one  feeling, 

Which  our  internal,  restless  agony 

Would  vary  in  the  sound,  although  the  sense 

Escapes  our  highest  efforts  to  be  happy. 

Bal.     You  muse  right  calmly:  and  can  you  so  watch 
The  sunrise  which  may  be  our  last  ? 

Myr.  It  is 

Therefore  that  I  so  watch  it,  and  reproach 
Those  eyes,  which  never  may  behold  it  more, 
For  having  looked  upon  it  oft,  too  oft, 
Without  the  reverence  and  the  rapture  due 
To  that  which  keeps  all  earth  from  being  as  fragile 
As  I  am  in  this  form.     Come,  look  upon  it, 
The  Chaldee's  god,  which,  when  I  gaze  upon, 
I  grow  almost  a  convert  to  your  Baal. 

Bal.     As  now  he  reigns  in  heaven,  so  once  on  earth 
He  swayed. 

Myr.  He  sways  it  now  far  more,  then  ;  never 

Had  earthly  monarch  half  the  power  and  glory 
Which  centers  in  a  single  ray  of  his. 


SARDANAPALUS.  333 

Bah     Surely  he  is  a  god  ! 

Myr.  So  we  Greeks  deem  too; 

And  yet  I  sometimes  think  that  gorgeous  orb 
Must  rather  be  the  abode  of  gods  than  one 
Of  the  immortal  sovereigns.     Now  lie  breaks 
Through  all  the  clouds,  and  fills  my  eves  with  light 
That  shuts  the  world  out.     1  can  look  no  more. 

Bal.     Hark  !  heard  you  not  a  sound  ':' 

Myr.  No,  'twas  mere  fancy; 

They  battle  it  beyond  the  wall,  and  not 
A-  in  late  midnight  conflict  in  the  very 
Chambers:  tin'  palace  has  become  a  fortress 
Since  that  insidious  hour;  and  here,  within 
The  very  center,  girded  by  vast  courts 
And  regal  halls  of  pyramid  proportions, 
Which  must  be  carried  one  by  one  before 
They  penetrate  to  where  they  then  arrived, 
We  an-  as  much  shut  in  even  from  the  sound 
Of  peril  as  from  glory. 

Hal.  But  they  reached 

Thus  far  before. 

l///r.  5Tes,  by  surprise,  and  were 

I'-.it   back  by  valor:    now  at  our,,  we  have 

Conrage  and  vigilance  to  guard  us. 

Bal.  May  they 

Prosper ! 

Myr.     Thai  i-'  the  prayer  of  many,  and 

The  dread  of  more  :    it   Is  an  anxious  hour  ; 

re  to  keep  it  from  my  thoughts.     Alas ! 
How  vainly  ! 

Bal.  It  is  -ai'l  t he  king's  demeanor 

In  the  late  action  scarcely  more  appalled 
The  rebels  than  astonished  In-  true  subjects. 

I////-.     'Tie  ■  tonisb.  or  appall 

The  \  ulgar  mass  «  hich  moldf  a  horde  oi 
But  he  did  bravt  ly. 


334    SYRIAN  AND  ASSYRIAN  FOLK-LORE. 

Bid.  Slew  he  not  Beleses? 

I  heard  the  soldiers  say  he  struck  him  down. 

Myr\,  The  wretch  was  overthrown,  but  rescued  to 
Triumph,  perhaps,  o'er  one  who  vanquished  him 
In  fight,  as  he  had  spared  him  in  his  peril ; 
And  by  that  heedless  pity  risked  a  crown. 

Bed.     Hark ! 

Myr.        You  are  right ;  some  steps  approach,  but  slowly. 

» 

Enter  Soldiers,  bearing  in  Salemenes  wounded,  with  a 
broken  javelin  in  his  side  ;  they  seat  him  upon  one  of  the 
couches  which  furnish  the  apartment. 

Myr.     0  Jove ! 

Bal.  Then  all  is  over. 

Sal  That  is  false. 

Hew  down  the  slave  who  says  so,  if  a  soldier. 

Mi/r.     Spare  him — he's  none  :  a  mere  court  butterfly, 
That  flutters  in  the  pageant  of  a  monarch. 

Sal.     Let  him  live  on,  then. 

Myr.  So  wilt  thou,  I  trust. 

Sal.     I  fain  would  live  this  hour  out,  and  the  event, 
But  doubt  it.     Wherefore  did  ye  bear  me  here? 

Sol.     By  the  king's  order.     When  the  javelin  struck  you, 
You  fell  and  fainted :  'twas  his  strict  command 
To  bear  you  to  this  hall. 

Sal.  'Twas  not  ill  done  ; 

For  seeming  slain  in  that  cold  dizzy  trance, 
The  sight  might  shake  our  soldiers — but — 'tis  vain, 
I  feel  it  ebbing ! 

Myr.  Let  me  see  the  wound  ; 

I  am  not  quite  skill-less :  in  my  native  land 
'Tis  part  of  our  instruction.     War  being  constant, 
We  are  nerved  to  look  on  such  things. 

Sol.  Best  extract 

The  javelin. 


Si  UWAXAPAL  US.  335 

Myr.  Hold !  no,  no,  it  can  not  be. 

Sal.     I  am  sped,  then  ! 

Myr.  With  fcbe  blood  that  fast  must  follow 

The  extracted  weapon,  I  do  fear  thy  life. 

Sal.     And  I  not  death.     Where  was  the  king  when  you 
Conveyed  me  from  the  spot  when;  I  was  stricken? 

Sol.     Upon  the  same  ground,  and  encouraging 
With  voice  ami  gesture  the  dispirited  troops 
Who  had  seen  you  fall,  and  faltered  hack. 

S/iI.  Whom  heard  ye 

Named  ur\t  to  the  command  ? 

Sol.  1  did  not  hear. 

Sal.     Fly,  then,  and  tell  him,  'twas  my  last  request 
That  Zanies  take  my  post  until  the  junction, 
So  hoped  for,  yet  delayed,  of  <  Ifratanes, 
Satrap  of  Susa.     Leave  me  here:  out  troops 
Are  not  so  numerous  as  to  spare  your  absence. 

Sol.     But,  prince — 

Sal.  Eence,  I  say!     Here's  a  courtier  and 

A  woman,  tin-  I,,-;  chamber  company. 

As  you  would  uol  permit  me  to  expire 

I'pon  the  field,  I'll  have  no  idle  soldiers 

Aboul  my  sick  couch.     Hence!  mid  do  my  bidding. 

|  Exeunt  the  Soldiers. 

Myr.      Grallanl  and  glorious  spirit  !    must  the  earth 
n  thee? 

Sal.  I  "Mile  Myrrha,  'tis 

The  end  I  would  have  chosen,  hail  i  saved 
The  monarch  or  the  monarchy  by  1 1 
A  -  'tis,  1  have  not  outlived  t hem. 

Myr.  Vim  wax  paler. 

Sal.     Your  hand ;  tin    broken  weapon  bul  prolo 
My  pangs,  without  sustaining  life  enough 

To  make  me  useful  :    I   would  draw  it   forth 
And  my  life  with  it,  could   I   hul   hear  how 
The  fighl    . 


336    SYRIAN  AND  ASSYRIAN  FOLK-LORE. 

Enter  Sardanapalus  and  Soldiers. 

Sar.   m  My  best  brother  ! 

Sal.  And  the  battle 

Is  lost? 

Sar.  (despgndingly).     You  see  me  here. 

Sal.  I'd  rather  see  you  thus! 

[He  draws  out  the  weapon  from  the  wound,  and  dies. 

Sar.     And  thus  1  will  be  seen ;  unless  the  succor, 
The  last  frail  reed  of  our  beleaguered  hopes, 
Arrive  with  Ofrataues. 

Myr.  Did  you  not 

Eeceive  a  token  from  your  dying  brother, 
Appointing  Zames  chief? 

Sar.  I  did. 

Myr.  Where's  Zames? 

Sar.     Dead. 

Myr.  And  Altada? 

Sar.  Dying. 

Myr.  Pania?  Sfero? 

Sar.     Pania  yet  lives  :  but  Sfero's  fled  or  captive. 
I  am  alone. 

Myr.         And  is  all  lost? 

Sar.  Our  walls, 

Though  thinly  manned,  may  still  hold  out  against 
Their  present  force,  or  aught  save  treachery : 
But  i'  the  field— 

Myr.  I  thought  'twas  the  intent 

Of  Salemenes  not  to  risk  a  sally 
Till  ye  were  strengthened  by  the  expected  succors. 

Sar.     I  overruled  him. 

Myr.  Well,  the  fault's  a  brave  one. 

Sar.     But  fatal.     Oh,  my  brother  !  I  would  give 
These  realms,  of  which  thou  wert  the  ornament, 
The  sword  and  shield,  the  sole  redeeming  honor, 
To  call  back —     But  I  will  not  weep  for  thee ; 


SARDAJVAPALUS.  3S7 

Thou  shalt  be  mourned  for  as  thou  wouldst  be  mourned. 

It  grieves  me  most  that  thou  couldst  quit  this  life 

Believing  that  I  could  survive  what  thou 

Hast  died  for — our  long  royalty  of  race. 

If  I  redeem  it,  1  will  give  thee  blood 

Of  thousands,  tears  of  millions,  for  atonement 

(The  tears  of  all  the  good  are  thine  already). 

If  not,  we  meet  again  soon — if  the  spirit 

Within  us  lives  beyond  :  thou  readest  mine, 

And  dost  me  justice  now.     Let  me  once  clasp 

That  yet  warm  hand,  and  fold  that  throbless  heart 

[Embraces  the  body. 
To  this  whidi  beats  so  bitterly.     Now  bear 
The  body  hence. 

Sol.  Where? 

Sar.  To  my  proper  chamber. 

Place  it  beneath  my  canopy,  as  though 
The  king  lav  there  :   when  this  is  done,  we  will 
Speak  further  of  the  rites  due  to  such  ashes. 

[  Exeunt  soldiers  with  tin-  body  o/Salemenes. 
Enter  I'ania. 

Sar.     Well,  I'ania  !  have  you  placed  the  guards  and  issued 
The  orders  fixed  on  ? 

Pan.  Sire,  I  have  obeyed. 

8ar.     And  do  the  soldiers  keep  their  hearts  up? 

Pan.  sirc? 

Sar.     I'm  answered  !     When  a  king  asks  twice  and  has 
A  question  as  an  answer  to  his  question, 

a  portent.     What  !  they  are  disheartened? 

Pan.      The  death  of  Salem, 'lies  and  the  Bhouts 

of  the  exulting  rebels  on  hi-  Tall, 
I  lave  made  thera — 

>■,.,-.  /.'<"/'■     not  droop  -  it  should  have  been. 

We'll   find   the  mean     to  rOU  }6  them. 

/'„//.  Such  a  loss 

Might  sadden  even  ;i  victory. 

I  oil. 


338    SYRIAN  AND  ASSYRIAN  FOLK-LORE. 

Sar.  Alas ! 

"Who  can  so  feel  it  as  I  feel  ?  but  yet, 
Though  cooped  within  these  walls,  they  are  strong,  and  we 
Have  those  without  will  break  their  way  through  hosts, 
To  make  their  sovereign's  dwelling  what  it  was — 
A  palace ;  not  a  prison,  nor  a  fortress. 

Enter  an  Officer,  hastily. 

Sar.     Thy  face  seems  ominous.     Speak  ! 

Offi,  I  dare  not. 

Sar.  Dare  not  ? 

While  millions  dare  revolt  with  sword  in  hand ! 
That's  strange.     I  pray  thee  break  that  loyal  silence 
"Which  loathes  to  shock  its  sovereign ;  we  can  hear 
Worse  than  thou  hast  to  tell. 

Pan.  Proceed,  thou  nearest. 

Offi.     The  wall  which  skirted  near  the  river's  brink 
Is  thrown  down  by  the  sudden  inundation 
Of  the  Euphrates,  which  now  rolling,  swollen 
From  the  enormous  mountains  where  it  rises, 
By  the  late  rains  of  that  tempestuous  region, 
O'erfloods  its  banks,  and  hath  destroyed  the  bulwark. 

Pan.     That's  a  black  augury  !  it  has  been  said 
For  ages  "  that  the  city  ne'er  should  yield 
To  man,  until  the  river  grew  its  foe." 

Sar.     I  can  forgive  the  omen,  not  the  ravage. 
How  much  is  swept  down  of  the  wall  ? 

Offi.  About 

Some  twenty  stadii. 

Sar.  And  all  this  is  left 

Pervious  to  the  assailants  ? 

Offi.  For  the  present 

The  river's  fury  must  impede  the  assault ; 
But  when  he  shrinks  into  his  wonted  channel, 
And  may  be  crossed  by  the  accustomed  barks, 
The  palace  is  their  own. 


SARDANAPALTJS.  339 

Sar.  That  shall  be  never. 

Though  men,  and  gods,  and  elements,  and  omens, 
Have  risen  up  'gainst  one  who  ne'er  provoked  them, 
My  father's  house  shall  never  be  a  cave 
For  wolves  to  horde  and  howl  in. 

Pan.  With  your  sanction, 

I  will  proceed  to  the  spot,  and  take  such  measures 
For  the  assurance  of  the  vacant  space 
As  time  and  means  permit. 

Sar.  About  it  straight, 

And  bring  me  back,  as  speedily  as  full 
And  fair  investigation  may  permit, 
Report  of  the  true  state  of  this  irruption 
Of  waters.  [  Exeunt  Paxia  and  the  Officer. 

Myt.       Thus  the  very  waves  rise  up 
Against  you. 

Sar.  They  are  noi  my  subjects,  girl, 

And  may  be  pardoned,  since  they  can't  be  punished. 

Myr.     I  joy  to  Bee  this  portent  shakes  you  not. 

Sar.     I  am  past  the  fear  of  portents:  they  can  tell  me 
Nothing  I  have  not  told  myself  since  midnight; 
Despair  anticipates  such  tilings. 

.)///>•.  Despair! 

Sar.     No;  noi  despair  precisely.     When  we  know 
All  that  c;m  come,  and  how  to  meet  it,  our 
Resolves,  if  Brm,  may  merit  a  more  noble 
Word  than  this  to  give  it  utterance. 
Bui  what  an-  words  to  us?  we  have  well-nigh  done 
With  them  and  all  thii 

I////-.  Save  one  deed    the  last 

And  greatesl  to  all  mortals;  crowning  act 
of  all  that  was  -or  is  —or  is  to  be — 
The  only  thing  common  to  all  mankind, 
So  differenl  in  their  births,  tongue  .  natures, 

Hie-,  features,  climes,  times,  feelings,  intelli 

Without  one  point  of  union  save  in  this, 


340    SYRIAN  AND  ASSYRIAN  FOLK-LORE. 

To  which  we  tend,  for  which  we're  born,  and  thread 
The  labyrinth  of  mystery,  called  life. 

Sar.    .Our  clew  being  well-nigh  wound  out,  let's  be  cheer- 
ful. 
They  who  have  nothing  more  to  fear  may  well 
Indulge  a  smile  at  that  which  once  appalled ; 
As  children  at  discovered  bugbears. 

Re-enter  Pania. 

Pan.  'Tis 

As  was  reported  ;  I  have  ordered  there 
A  double  guard,  withdrawing  from  the  wall 
Where  it  was  strongest  the  required  addition 
To  watch  the  breach  occasioned  by  the  waters. 

Sar.     You  have  done  your  duty  faithfully,  and  as 
My  worthy  Pania !  further  ties  between  us 
Draw  near  a  close,  I  pray  you  take  this  key :       [Gives  a  key. 
It  opens  to  a  secret  chamber,  placed 
Behind  the  couch  in  my  own  chamber.     (Now 
Pressed  by  a  nobler  weight  than  e'er  it  bore- 
Though  a  long  line  of  sovereigns  have  lain  down 
Along  its  golden  frame — as  bearing  for 
A  time  what  late  was  Salemenes.)     Search 
The  secret  covert  to  which  this  will  lead  you ; 
'Tis  full  of  treasure  ;  take  it  for  yourself 
And  your  companions :  there's  enough  to  load  ye 
Though  ye  be  many.     Let  the  slaves  be  freed,  too; 
And  all  the  inmates  of  the  palace,  of 
Whatever  sex,  now  quit  it  in  an  hour. 
Thence  launch  the  regal  barks,  once  formed  for  pleasure, 
And  now  to  serve  for  safety,  and  embark. 
The  river's  broad  and  swollen,  and  uncommanded 
(More  potent  than  a  king)  by  these  besiegers. 
Fly  !  and  be  happy  ! 

Pan.  Under  your  protection ! 

So  you  accompany  your  faithful  guard. 


SARDANAPALl'S.  341 

Sttr.     No,  Pania  !  that  must  not  be;  get  thee  hence, 
And  leave  me  to  my  fate. 

Pan.  'Tis  the  first  time 

I  ever  disobeyed  ;  but  now — 

Sar.  So  all  men 

Dare  beard  me  now,  and  Insolence  within 
Apes  Treason  from  without.     Question  no  further; 
'Tis  my  command,  my  last  command.     Wilt  thou 
Opjio.se  it?  thou  .' 

Pan.  But  yet — not  yet. 

Sar.  Well,  then, 

Swear  that  you  will  obey  when  I  shall  give 
The  signal. 

Pan.         With  a  heavy  but  true  heart, 
I  promise. 

Sar.        'Tis  enough.     Now  order  here 
Fagots,  pine  nuts,  and  withered  leaves,  and  such 
Things  as  catch  fire  and  blaze  with  one  sole  spark  ; 
Bring  cedar,  too,  and  precious  drugs,  and  spices, 
And  mighty  planks,  to  nourish  a  tall  pile; 
Bring  frankincense  and  myrrh,  too,  for  it  is 
For  a  greal  sacrifice  I  build  the  pyre; 
And  heap  them  round  yon  tin-one. 

Pan.  My  lord! 

Sar.  I  have  said  it, 

And  you  have  sworn. 

Pan.  And  could  keep  my  faith 

Without  a  vow.  [  Exit  Pania. 

Myr.  What  mean  you  ? 

Sar.  You  shall  know 

Anon — what  the  whole  earth  -hall  ne'er  forget. 

Pania,  returning  with  a  Herald. 

/''///.      My  king,  in  going  forth  upon  my  duty, 

This  herald  has  been  broughi  before  me,  craving 
An  audience. 


342    SYRIAN  AMD  ASSYRIAN  FOLK-LORE. 

Sar.  Let  him  speak. 

Her.  The  King  Arbaces — 

Sar.   .What,  crowned  already?     But  proceed. 

Her.  Beleses, 

The  anointed  high  priest — 

Sar.  Of  what  god  or  demon  ? 

With  new  kings  rise  new  altars.     But  proceed ; 
You  are  sent  to  prate  your  master's  will,  and  not 
Reply  to  mine. 

Her.  And  Satrap  Ofratanes — 

Sar.     Why,  he  is  ours. 

Her.  {showing  a  ring).     Be  sure  that  he  is  now 
In  the  camp  of  the  conquerors ;  behold 
His  signet  ring. 

Sar.  'Tie  his.     A  worthy  triad  ! 

Poor  Salemenes !  thou  hast  died  in  time 
To  see  one  treachery  the  less ;  this  man 
Was  thy  true  friend  and  my  most  trusted  subject. 
Proceed. 

Her.      They  offer  thee  thy  life,  and  freedom 
Of  choice  to  single  out  a  residence 
In  any  of  the  further  provinces, 
Guarded  and  watched,  but  not  confined  in  person, 
Where  thou  shafts  pass  thy  days  in  peace ;  but  on 
Condition  that  the  three  young  princes  are 
Given  up  as  hostages. 

Sar.  {ironically).      The  generous  victors  ! 

Her.     I  wait  the  answer. 

Sar.  Answer,  slave  !     How  long 

Have  slaves  decided  on  the  doom  of  kings  ? 
Her.     Since  they  were  free. 

Sar.  Mouthpiece  of  mutiny  ! 

Thou  at  the  least  shalt  learn  the  penalty 
Of  treason,  though  its  proxy  only.     Pania ! 
Let  his  head  be  thrown  from  our  walls  within 
The  rebels'  lines,  his  carcass  down  the  river. 


S  IRDANAPALUS.  343 

Away  with  him  !  [I'axia  and  the  Guards  seizing  him. 

Pan.  I  never  yet  obeyed 

Your  orders  with  more  pleasure  than  the  present. 
Hence  with  him,  soldiers !  do  not  soil  this  hall 
Of  royalty  with  treasonable  gore; 
Put  him  to  rest  without. 

Her.  A  single  word  ; 

My  office,  king,  is  sacred. 

Sar.  And  what's  mine? 

That  thou  shouldst  come  and  dare  to  ask  of  me 
To  lay  it  down? 

//'  r.  I  but  obeyed  my  orders, 

At  the  same  peril  if  refused,  as  now 
Incurred  by  my  obedience. 

Sar.  So  there  are 

New  monarchs  of  an  hour's  growth  as  despotic 
As  sovereigns  swathed  in  purple,  and  enthroned 
From  birth  to  manhood  ! 

Her.  My  life  waits  your  breath. 

k  humbly)  — bul  it  may  be— yours 
May  also  be  in  danger  scarce  less  imminent: 
Would  it  then  suit  the  lasl  hours  of  a  line 
Such  as  i-  i ha1  of  N imrod,  to  destroy 
A  peaceful  herald,  unarmed,  in  his  office; 
And  violate  not  only  all  that  man 
Hold-  sacred  between  man  and  man   -but  that 
More  holy  tie  which  links  iis  with  the  gods? 

Sar.     He's  right.     Lei  him  go  free.     My  life's  lasl 
Shall  not  be  one  of  wrath.      Here,  fellow,  take 

[  Qiven  hi  in  a  golden  cup  from  a  table  near. 
This  golden  goblet,  lei  it  hold  your  wine. 
And  think  of  rm  ;  or  mell  it  into  in: 
And  think  of  nothing  bul  their  weigh!  and  value. 

/A/-.     1  thank  yon  doubly  for  ray  life,  and  this 
Mo  t  gorgi    us  '_rit't,  which  i  it  more  precious. 

But  inn  t  1  bear  no  answer  ? 


344    SYRIAN  AND  ASSYRIAN  FOLK-LORE. 

Sar.  Yes — I  ask 

An  hour's  truce  to  consider. 

Her.'  But  an  hour's? 

Sar.     An  hour's  :  if  at  the  expiration  of 
That  time  your  masters  hear  no  further  from  me, 
They  are  to  deem  that  I  reject  their  terms, 
And  act  befittingly. 

Her.  I  shall  not  fail 

To  be  a  faithful  legate  of  your  pleasure. 

Sar.     And  hark  !  a  word  more. 

Her.  I  shall  not  forget  it, 

Whate'er  it  be. 

Sar.  Commend  me  to  Beleses; 

And  tell  him,  ere  a  year  expire,  I  summon 
Him  hence  to  meet  me. 

Her.  Where  ? 

Sar.  At  Babylon. 

At  least  from  thence  he  will  depart  to  meet  me. 

Her.     I  shall  obey  you  to  the  letter.  [Exit  Herald. 

Sar.  Pauia ! — 

Now,  my  good  Pania  ! — quick — with  what  I  ordered. 

Pan.     My  lord — the  soldiers  are  already  charged. 
And  see  !  they  enter. 

[Soldiers  enter,  and  form  a  pile  about  the  throne,  etc. 

Sar.  Higher,  my  good  soldiers, 

And  thicker  yet ;  and  see  that  the  foundation 
Be  such  as  will  not  speedily  exhaust 
Its  own  too  subtle  flame ;  nor  yet  be  quenched 
With  aught  officious  aid  would  bring  to  quell  it. 
Let  the  throne  form  the  core  of  it ;  I  would  not 
Leave  that,  save  fraught  with  fire  unquenchable, 
To  the  newcomers.     Frame  the  whole  as  if 
'Twere  to  enkindle  the  strong  tower  of  our 
Inveterate  enemies.     Now  it  bears  an  aspect ! 
How  say  you,  Pauia,  will  this  pile  suffice 
For  a  king's  obsequies? 


SARDANAPALUS.  345 

Pan.  Ay,  for  a  kingdom's. 

I  understand  you  now. 

Sar.  And  blame  me? 

Pan.  No- 

Let  me  but  fire  the  pile  and  share  it  with  you. 

Myr.     Thai  duty's  mine. 

Pan.  A  woman's ! 

Myr.  'Tis  the  soldier's 

Part  to  die  for  his  sovereign,  and  why  not 
The  woman's  with  her  lover? 

Pan.  'Tis  most  strange  ! 

Myr.     But  not  so  rare,  my  Pania,  as  thou  think'st  it. 
In  the  meantime,  live  thou.     Farewell !  the  pile 
Is  ready. 

Pan.      I  should  shame  to  leave  my  sovereign 
With  but  a  single  female  to  partake 
Ills  death. 

Sar.         Too  many  far  have  heralded 
Me  to  the  dust  already.     Get  thee  hence; 
Enrich  thee. 

Pan.  And  live  wretched  ! 

S"r.  Think  upon 

Thy  vow  :—'ti8  sacred  and  irrevocable. 

/'-///.     Since  it  is  so,  farewell. 

Sar.  Search  well  my  chamber. 

Feel  no  remorse  at  bearing  off  the  .ur<»ld  ; 
Remember  what  you  leave  you  leave  bhe  slaves 

Who  slew  me:  and  when  you  have  borne  away 
AH  safe  oiT  to  your  boats,  blow  one  long  blast 
Upon  the  trumpet  as  you  qui!  tie'  palace. 
The  river's  brink  Is  to.,  remote,  it-  stream 
Too  loud  at  present  to  permit  the  echo 
To  reach  distinctly  from  its  banks.     Thru  fly, 
And   i  ill,  turn  back  ;  but  -till  keep  on 

four  way  along  the  Euphrates:  if  you  reach 
The  land  of  Paphlagonia,  where  the  queen 


346    SYRIAN  AND  ASSYRIAN  FOLK-LORE. 

Is  safe  with  my  three  sons  in  Cotta's  court, 
Say  what  you  saiv  at  parting,  and  request 
That  she. remember  what  I  said  at  one 
Parting  more  mournful  still. 

Pan.  That  royal  hand ! 

Let  me  then  once  more  press  it  to  my  lips ; 
And  these  poor  soldiers  who  throng  round  you,  and 
Would  fain  die  with  you  ! 

[The  soldiers  and  Pania  throng  round  him,  kissing  his 
hand  and  the  hem  of  his  robe. 

Sar.  My  best !  my  last  friends  ! 

Let's  not  unman  each  other — part  at  once  : 
All  farewells  should  be  sudden,  when  forever, 
Else  they  make  an  eternity  of  moments, 
And  clog  the  last  sad  sands  of  life  with  tears. 
Hence,  and  be  happy ;  trust  me,  I  am  not 
Now  to  be  pitied  ;  or  far  more  for  what 
Is  past  than  present; — for  the  future,  'tis 
In  the  hands  of  the  deities,  if  such 
There  be  :  I  shall  know  soon.     Farewell — farewell. 

[Exeunt  Pania  and  Soldiers. 

Myr.     These  men  were  honest ;  it  is  comfort  still 
That  our  last  looks  should  be  on  loving  faces. 

Sar.     And  lovely  ones,  my  beautiful ! — but  hear  me  ! 
If  at  this  moment — for  we  now  are  on 
The  brink — thou  feel'st  an  inward  shrinking  from 
This  leap  through  flame  into  the  future,  say  it : 
I  shall  not  love  thee  less ;  nay,  perhaps  more, 
For  yielding  to  thy  nature :  and  there's  time 
Yet  for  thee  to  escape  hence. 

Myr.  Shall  I  light 

One  of  the  torches  which  lie  heaped  beneath 
The  ever-burning  lamp  that  burns  without, 
Before  Baal's  shrine,  in  the  adjoining  hall  ? 


SARD  ANAP ALUS.  347 

Sar.     Do  so.     Is  that  thy  answer? 

Myr.  Thou  shalt  see. 

[Exit  Myurha. 

Sar.  (solus).    She's  firm.    My  fathers !  whom  I  will  rejoin, 
It  may  be,  purified  by  death  from  some 
Of  the  gross  stains  of  too  material  being, 
I  would  not  leave  your  ancient  first  abode 
To  the  defilement  of  usurping  bondmen ; 
If  I  have  not  kept  your  inheritance 
As  ye  bequeathed  it,  this  bright  part  of  it, 
Your  treasure,  your  abode,  your  sacred  relics 
Of  arms,  and  records,  monuments,  and  spoils, 
In  which  they  would  have  reveled,  I  bear  with  me 
To  you  in  that  absorbing  element, 
Which  mosl  personifies  the  soul  as  leaving 
The  least  of  matter  uneonsumed  before 
Its  fiery  workings :— and  the  light  of  this 
Mosl  royal  of  funereal  pyres  Bhall  be 
Not  a  mere  pillar  formed  of  cloud  and  flame, 
A  beacon  in  the  horizon  for  a  day, 
And  then  a  mount  of  ashes,  but  a  light 
To  Lesson  ages,  rebel  nations,  and 
Voluptuous  priuces.     Time  -hall  quench  full  many 
A  people's  records,  and  a  hero's  acl  - ; 
Sweep  empire  after  empire,  like  this  first 
Of  empire-',  into  nothing  ;    bul  even  then 
Shall  spare  this  deed  of  mine,  and  hold  it   up 
A   problem  U'\v  dare  imitate,  and  none 

I >espise     but,  it  may  be,  avoid  the  life 
Which  led  to  -ueh  a  consummation. 

Mybbha  returns  bearing  a  ii<ilii<<l  torch  and  <>  cup. 

Myr.  Lol 

I've  in  the  lamp  which  lights  as  to  the  -tars. 
8ar.     And  the  cup? 


348    SYRIAN  AND  ASSYRIAN  FOLK-LORE. 

Myr.  'Tis  my  country's  custom  to 

Make  a  libation  to  the  gods. 

Sar.  •  And  mine 

To  make  libations  amongst  men.     I've  not 
Forgot  the  custom  ;  and  although  alone,  • 
Will  drain  one  draught  in  memory  of  many 
A  joyous  banquet  past. 

[Sardanapalus  takes  the  cup,  and  after  drinking  and 
tinkling  the  reversed  cup,  as  a  drop  falls,  exclaims — 

And  this  libation 
Is  for  the  excellent  Beleses. 

Myr.  Why 

Dwells  thy  mind  rather  upon  that  man's  name 
Than  on  his  mate's  in  villainy? 

Sar.  The  one 

Is  a  mere  soldier,  a  mere  tool,  a  kind 
Of  human  sword  in  a  friend's  hand;  the  other 
Is  master-mover  of  his  warlike  puppet : 
But  I  dismiss  them  from  my  mind.     Yet  pause, 
My  Myrrha  !  dost  thou  truly  follow  me, 
Freely  and  fearlessly? 

Myr.  And  dost  thou  think 

A  Greek  girl  dare  not  do  for  love,  that  which 
An  Indian  widow  braves  for  custom? 

Sar.  Then 

We  but  await  the  signal. 

Myr.  It  is  long 

In  sounding. 

Sar.  Now,  farewell ;  one  last  embrace. 

Myr.     Embrace,  but  not  the  last ;  there  is  one  more. 

Sar.     True,  the  commingling  fire  will  mix  our  ashes. 

Myr.     And  pure  as  is  my  love  to  thee,  shall  they, 
Purged  from  the  dross  of  earth  and  earthly  passion, 
Mix  pale  with  thine.     A  single  thought  yet  irks  me. 

Sar.     Say  it. 


SARDAAAPALUS.  349 

Myr.  It  is  that  no  kind  hand  will  gather 

The  dust  of  both  into  one  urn. 

Sar.  The  better : 

Rather  let  them  be  borne  abroad  upon 
The  winds  of  heaven,  and  scattered  into  air, 
Than  be  polluted  more  by  human  hands 
Of  slaves  and  traitors.     In  this  blazing  palace, 
And  its  enormous  walls  of  reeking  ruin, 
We  leave  a  nobler  monument  than  Egypt 
Hath  piled  in  her  brick  mountains,  o'er  dead  kings, 
Or  hine,  for  nunc  know  whether  those  proud  piles 
Be  for  their  monarch,  or  their  ox-god  Apis: 
So  much  for  monuments  that  have  forgotten 
Their  very  record  ! 

M//r.  Then  farewell,  thou  earth  ! 

And  loveliest  spot  of  earth!  farewell,  Ionia! 
Be  thou  still  free  and  beautiful,  and  far 
Aloof  from  desolation  !     My  last  prayer 
Was  tor  thee,  my  last  thoughts,  save  one,  were  of  thee! 

Sar.     And  that  ? 

Mi/r.  I-  yours. 

(  The  trumpet  of  I 'am  a  sounds  without. 

Sar.  I  lark  ! 

Myr.  Noio! 

Sur.  Adieu,  Assyria  ! 

I  loved  thee  well,  my  own,  my  fathers'  land, 
And  better  as  my  country  than  my  kingdom. 
I      ',<i  thee  with  peace  and  joys ;  and  this 
h  my  reward  !  and  now  I  owe  thee  oothing, 
KTol  .-ven  ;i  grave.  I  H<  mounts  thepile. 

Ndw .  Myi-'ha  ! 

Myr.  A.ri  thou  read]  ? 

Sar.     A-  the  torch  in  thy  grasp.  [Mybrha  fires  thepile. 

Myr.  'Tis  Bred  !  1  come. 

i  .|.~  Mvi:i;n\  springi  forward  to  throw  herself  into  the 
flames,  the  curtain  falls. 


350    SYRIAN  AND  ASSYRIAN  FOLK-LORE. 
THE    DESTRUCTION    OF    SENNACHERIB. 

BY    LORD   BYRON. 

The  Assyrian  came  down  like  the  wolf  on  the  fold, 
And  his  cohorts  were  gleaming  in  purple  and  gold; 
And  the  sheen  of  their  spears  was  like  stars  on  the  sea, 
When  the  blue  wave  rolls  nightly  on  deep  Galilee. 

Like  the  leaves  of  the  forest  when  Summer  is  green, 
That  host  with  their  banners  at  sunset  were  seen ; 
Like  the  leaves  of  the  forest  when  Autumn  hath  blown, 
That  host  on  the  morrow  lay  withered  and  strown. 

For  the  Angel  of  Death  spread  his  wings  on  the  blast, 
And  breathed  in  the  face  of  the  foe  as  he  passed ; 
And  the  eyes  of  the  sleepers  waxed  deadly  and  chill, 
And  their  hearts  but  once  heaved,  and  forever  grew  still! 

And  there  lay  the  steed  with  his  nostril  all  wide, 
But  through  it  there  rolled  not  the  breath  of  his  pride; 
And  the  foam  of  his  gasping  lay  white  on  the  turf, 
And  cold  as  the  spray  of  the  rock-beating  surf. 

And  there  lay  the  rider  distorted  and  pale, 
With  the  dew  on  his  brow  and  the  rust  on  his  mail ; 
And  the  tents  were  all  silent,  the  banners  alone, 
The  lances  uplifted,  the  trumpet  unblown. 

And  the  widows  of  Ashur  are  loud  in  their  wail, 
And  the  idols  are  broke  in  the  temple  of  Baal ; 
And  the  might  of  the  Gentile,  unsmote  by  the  sword, 
Hath  melted  like  snow  in  the  glance  of  the  Lord ! 


.  ISSYRMJf  MGHT-SOXG.  35 1 

ASSYRIAN    NIGHT-SONG. 

BY    BAYARD   TAYLOR. 

There  is  naught,  on  either  hand, 
But  the  moon  upon  the  sand. 
Pale  and  glimmering,  far  and  dim, 
To  the  Desert's  utmost  rim, 
Flows  the  inundating  light 
Over  all  the  lands  of  Night. 
Bel,  the  burning  lord,  has  fled  : 
In  her  blue,  uncurtained  bed, 
Ishtar,  bending  from  above, 
Seeks  her  Babylonian  love. 
Silver-browed,  forever  fair, 
Goddess  of  the  dusky  hair 
And  the  jewel-sprinkled  breast, 
Give  me  love,  or  give  me  rest! 

I  have  wandered  lone  and  far 
A-  the  -hip  of  [zdubar, 
When  the  Lrathciv<!  waters  rose 
Bigh  '»n  Nizir's  mountain  snows, 
Drifting  where  the  torrent  Bped 
Over  lif'-  and  glory  d<  ad. 
Hear  me  now !     I  stretch  my  hands 
From  the  moon-sea  of  the  sands 
I  Into  thee,  <>r  any  star 
That  was  guide  t"  [zdubar ! 
Where  the  Lulls  with  kingly  hi 
Guard  the  way  to  palace-beds, 

(  >nce  I   -aw  a  woman  go, 

Swift  :is  air  and  low, 

Making  swan  and  cypress  one, 
Steel  and  honey,  nighl  and  sun- 
Once  "f  <l<  ath  I  know  the  3til 
Beauty  queen— and  1  not  king  ! 


352    SYRIAN  AND  ASSYRIAN  FOLK-LORE. 

Where  the  Hanging  Gardens  soar 
Over  the  Euphrates'  shore, 
And  from  palm  and  clinging  vine 
Lift  aloft  the  Median  pine, 
Torches  flame  and  wine  is  poured, 
And  the  child  of  Bel  is  lord ! 
I  am  here  alone  with  thee, 
Ishtar,  daughter  of  the  Sea, 
Who  of  woven  dew  and  air 
Spreadst  an  ocean,  phantom-fair, 
With  a  slow  pulse  beating  through 
Wave  of  air  and  foam  of  dew. 
As  I  stand,  I  seem  to  drift       • 
With  its  noiseless  fall  and  lift, 
While  a  veil  of  lightest  lawn, 
Or  a  floating  form  withdrawn, 
Or  a  glimpse  of  beckoning  hands 
Gleams  and  fades  above  the  sands. 

Day,  that  mixed  my  soul  with  men, 

Has  it  died  forever,  then  ? 

Is  there  any  world  but  this  ? 

If  the  god  deny  his  bliss, 

And  the  goddess  can  not  give, 

What  are  gods,  that  men  should  live  ? 

Lo  !  the  sand  beneath  my  feet 

Hoards  the  bounty  of  its  heat, 

And  thy  silver  cheeks  I  see 

Bright  with  him  who  burns  for  thee. 

Give  the  airy  semblance  form, 

Bid  the  dream  be  near  and  warm ; 

Or,  if  dreams  but  flash  and  die 

As  a  mock  to  heart  and  eye, 

Then  descend  thyself,  and  be, 

Ishtar,  sacred  bride  to  me  ! 


EGYPTIAN   FOLK-LORE. 

A  most  striking  illustration  of  the  contradictions  of 
human  character  is  to  be  found  in  the  religious  worship 
of  the  ancient  Egyptians.  Their  state  of  civilization  was 
highly  advanced.  Their  temples  were  among  the  wonders 
of  the  world.  Their  priests  were  also  scholars  and  scientists. 
Jn  whose  honor  were  those  magnificeni  sacred  edifices  con- 
strncted?  What  were  the  objects  of  devotion  in  whose 
service  the  lives  of  learned  and  notable  men  were  passed? 
Nol  the  vasl  creature-  of  a  distorted  imagination,  nor  yet  the 
fearful  and  colossal  images  to  which  other  heathen  nations 
bowed.  Living  animals — beasts  of  burden,  birds,  eats,  and 
hideous  reptiles  -were  the  deities  of  the  Nile.  A  reason  for 
this  strange  worship  of  their  gods  in  forms  so  debasing  is 
found  in  Ovid  (  Metamorphoses,?,  319).  It  is  said  thai  giants 
invaded  the  heavens,  and  that  the  gods  fled  in  fear  to  Egypt, 
where  they  disguised  themselves  in  animal  shapes. 

After  i  hese  appeared 
A  crew,  «  ho,  under  i  old  renown, 

0  •  i  m, 

Wii  h  rnonst  roti  and  sorceries  abus'd 

Fanal  ic  K_  \  pi  and  her  p 

Their  wand'ring  gods  disguis'd  in  brutish  form  , 
tia  her  1  han  human. 

Uilton'a  "  I'm <i<lt.  <   Lost," 

bap   a  better  explanation  of  t  h  lar  prosl  itu 

of  worship   is  thai    the  animals   were  used  at    hieroglyphic 
Bymbol    in  thi   sacred  writings,  and  from  this  the  symbolism 
the  li\ini'   brute.     Sometimes  the  gods  were 
polr  i ■•■■ 


354  EGYPTIAN  FOLK-LORE. 

represented  as  human  figures,  but  with  the  heads  of  the 
respective  animals. 

Apart  from  their  degrading  worship,  the  religion  of  the 
Egyptians  was  not  low  in  its  conceptions  or  aspirations.  The 
earlier  generations  seem  to  have  believed  in  one  omnipotent 
and  all-wise  Creator ;  and  throughout  their  history  the 
Egyptians  manifested  an  abiding  faith  in  the  immortality 
of  the  soul,  the  punishment  of  the  wicked  after  death,  and 
the  future  reward  of  the  righteous.  The  names  applied  to 
their  gods  are  endless,  yet  the  principal  divinities  themselves 
were  by  no  means  so  numerous,  since  each  seems  to  have  had 
many  appellations. 

Osiris,  the  principal  deity,  was  generally  worshiped 
under  the  form  of  the  bull  Apis.  A  living  bull  in  the  great 
temple  at  Memphis  received  the  highest  honors  in  life  and 
in  death.  Osiris  was  also  the  sun  god  and  the  god  of  the 
Nile. 

Isis  was  the  consort  of  Osiris,  and  is  mentioned  also  as 
his  mother,  sister,  and  daughter.  She  was  represented  as  a 
cow,  or  as  a  human  female  figure  with  horns.  She  was  the 
moon  goddess,  and  was  the  patroness  of  the  Nile. 

Horus,  or  Orus,  the  son  of  Osiris  and  Isis,  was  a  type  of 
the  sun,  the  god  of  time.  Sometimes  he  is  represented  as 
Osiris  himself.  Osiris,  Isis,  and  Orus  are  the  three  best 
known  of  all  the  gods  of  Egypt,  and  in  their  primal  or 
derivative  forms  constitute  most  of  the  mythology. 

Didst  thou  not  hear  the  pother  o'er  thy  head, 
When  the  great  Persian  conqueror,  Cambyses, 

Marched  armies  through  thy  land  with  thundering  tread, 
O'erthrew  Osiris,  Orus,  Apis,  Isis, 

And  shook  the  pyramids  with  fear  and  wonder, 

When  the  gigantic  Memnon  fell  asunder! 

— Horace  Smith's  " Address  to  a  Mummy." 

In  Egyptian  Thebes  the  chief  deity  was  known  as  Amtjst- 
ra.  He  had  a  ram's  head.  Pasht,  his  sister,  had  the  head 
of  a  cat.     Like  Ra,  she  represented  the  sun. 


NOTES  OF  LITERATURE.  355 

The  father  of  Ra  and  Pasht  was,  in  Memphis,  Phtah, 
who  was  known  as  the  first  cause,  the  father  of  the  begin- 
nings. 

Thoth  was  the  god  of  wisdom.  His  form  was  that  of 
the  ibis.     He  was  the  son  of  Amun,  or  Nephyx. 

Typiiox  was  the  Egyptian  Satan — the  author  of  evil, 
the  adversary  of  gods  and  men.  He  assumed  variously  the 
forms  of  a  pig,  a  hippopotamus,  and  an  ass. 

Sehapis  was  originally  a  personification  of  the  Xile.  In 
later  times  he  was  worshiped  with  great  magnificence,  as  the 
patron  divinity  of  the  country.  His  splendid  temple,  the 
Serapeon,  at  Alexandria,  which  had  for  its  sole  rival  the 
Capitol  at  Pome,  was  destroyed  by  the  Pomans  under  The- 
odosius. 

MEMNON  was  an  African  hero  of  the  Trojan  war.  He 
seems  to  have  been  also  a  sun  god,  and.  he  was  perhaps  a 
personification  of  memory  as  well.  His  immense  statue 
at  Thebes,  in  Egypt,  in  some  unaccountable  way  emitted 
when  the  lays  of  the  rising  sun  fell  upon  it,  and  was 
said  t<>  sing.  'I'h''  tones  win'  a  mournful  strain  of  music,  as 
of  the  breaking  of  a  harp-string. 

Perhaps  thou  werl  a  Mason,  and  forbidden 

By  oath  t<>  till  the  secrets  <>f  thy  trade  ; 
Then  say,  whal  secrel  melody  was  hidden 

In  Memnon's  statue,  which  at  sunrise  played  ? 
Perhaps  thou  werl  a  priest — if  so,  my  struj 
An-  vain,  lor  priestcraft  never  n«^  it-  juggles. 

—  Horace  Smith's  "Address  to  (t  Mummy." 

NOTES    OF    LITERATURE    RELATING    TO    EGYPTIAN    FOLK-LORE. 

r  rn  in;  i  nturies  the  vast  literature  of  ancienl  Egypt,  existing  in 
countless  inscriptions  upon  rocks  and  in  myriads  of  papyrus  rolls,  was 
locked  from  the  human  race,  for  there  wa  »n  in  the  world  who 

could  read  a  word  "f  it. 

A  key  to  thi>  forgotten  lore  was  supplied  in  1799,  when  the  spade 
of  a  French  soldier,  engaged  in  the  construction  of  a  rampart  in  the 
Delta  of  the  Nile,  struck  a  rock  upon  which  was  inscribed  a  duplicate 


356  EGYPTIAN  FOLK-LORE. 

proclamation  in  Egyptian  and  Greek.  The  Greek  version  of  the  decree 
supplied  the  equivalents  of  some  of  the  Egyptian  words,  and  a  starting 
point  was  given  for  the  deciphering  of  the  entire  inscription.  Various 
Egyptologists  have  won  distinction  in  the  century  now  closing,  by  their 
industry  and  skill  in  extending  the  knowledge  of  Egyptian  letters ;  and 
there  are  now  translations  into  modern  tongues  of  a  very  great  number 
of  Egyptian  writings,  which  possess  a  high  degree  of  interest  for  the 
student  of  history,  literature,  and  folk-lore. 

More  than  four  thousand  years  ago  the  Egyptians  wrote  in  hiero- 
glyphics, or  rude  pictures.  After  many  centuries  the  original  charac- 
ters were  exchanged  for  a  system  largely  phonetic  but  very  imperfect. 
The  golden  age  of  Egyptian  letters  was  the  era  of  Moses  and  of  Ra- 
meses  II,  the  Pharaoh  of  Scripture.  A  great  library  of  papyrus  rolls 
was  established  at  Thebes,  the  capital  of  the  nation. 

The  Book  of  the  Dead  is  one  of  the  most  famous  works  of  ancient 
literature.  It  begins  with  a  dialogue  between  the  soul  and  its  god, 
Osiris,  immediately  after  death.  It  prescribes  the  funereal  honors  to  be 
paid  to  the  body  of  the  deceased,  which  include  the  embalming  of  the 
flesh  and  its  preservation  for  the  future  habitation  of  the  departed  soul. 
It  follows  the  disembodied  spirit  through  its  supposed  long  journeys 
and  vicissitudes  in  the  lower  world  to  the  judgment-seat  of  Osiris, 
where  the  heart  was  weighed  and  the  soul  was  approved  or  condemned. 

The  Book  of  Phtah-hotep  is  believed  to  be  the  most  ancient  in  exist- 
ence. A  copy  of  the  work  is  to  be  found  in  the  museum  at  Paris.  It 
is  a  book  of  moral  precepts  for  the  government  of  human  life. 

There  are  many  hymns  to  the  gods  of  Egypt,  and  to  illustrious 
mortals.  An  epic  poem  by  Pentaour  recites  the  triumphs  of  Rameses. 
There  are  books  on  medicine,  and  a  very  ancient  work  on  geometry. 
There  are  romances  and  fairy  tales. 

Among  the  noted  men  whose  labors  have  restored  the  long-hidden 
literature  of  the  Egyptians,  the  most  famous  is  the  French  savant,  Jean 
Francois  Champollion,  whose  interpretation  of  the  Rosetta  stone,  de- 
scribed above,  gave  the  first  impetus  to  the  modern  study  of  Egyptian 
writings. 

The  great  library  at  Alexandria,1  the  destruction  of  which  has  been 
the  regret  of  scholars  for  ages,  was  established  by  the  Greek  dynasty  of 


1  This  was  twice  destroyed.  When  Julius  Caesar  set  fire  to  the  city  in  his 
Alexandrian  war,  in  the  year  47  b.  a,  the  library  was  consumed.  Reestablished 
under  Cleopatra,  it  again  attained  importance,  and  was  preserved  until  the  city 
was  taken  by  the  Mohammedans",  in  the  year  640  a.  n.,  when  it  was  sacrificed 
to  the  bigotry  of  the  victorious  Caliph. 


ADDRESS  TO   THE  MUMMY.  357 

the  Ptolemies,  in  the  later  centuries  of  Egyptian  history,  when  Greek 
was  the  language  predominanl  in  letters.  This  library  is  said  to  have 
contained  as  many  as  seven  hundred  thousand  books.  Doubtless  it 
included  among  its  treasures  the  folk-lore  as  well  as  the  history  of  many 
nations. 

Herodotus,  "the  Father  of  History,"  who  wrote  (in  Greek)  about 
450  B.C.,  visited  Egypl  and  gathered  from  the  priests  the  accounts 
which  he  gives  of  ancienl  Egyptian  history  and  tradition.  Rawlinson's 
translation  of  Herodotus,  with  notes,  is  of  interest  to  students. 

An  alleged  history  of  Egypt,  by  Manetho,  an  Egyptian  priest  of  the 
third  century  B.C.,  is  of  no  value  as  a  historical  record,  being  "a 
worthless  list  of  gods,  hemes,  and  kings." 

The  romantic  career  of  the  Egyptian  Queen  Cleopatra  has  been  the 
theme  of  innumerable  histories,  romances,  poems,  and  dramas.  Among 
the  latter  are  Shakespeare's  Antony  and  Cleopatra, and  Dryden's.4iZ  for 
Love,  in  which  may  be  found  allusions  to  Egyptian  divinities. 

The  splendid  opera  of  Alda  was  written  aboul  a  quarter  of  a  century 
ago,  by  Giuseppe  Verdi,  the  Italian  composer,  at  the  request  of  the 
patriotic  and  ambitious  Khedive,  who  strove  in  every  way  to  cultivate 
among  his  subjects  a  national  spirit.  The  scene  of  the  opera  is  laid  at 
Memphis  and  Thebes,  in  the  time  of  the  Pharaohs.  Among  the  charac- 
ter- i-  Ramphis, a  high  priest  of  the  Temple  of  Isis.  The  opera  was  first 
performed  at  Cairo,  in  1ST(». 


ADDRESS   TO    THE     MUMMY    AT    BELZONI'S 
EXHIBITION. 

BY    HOB  Mi;    smith. 

Ami  ihon  hael  walked  aboul  (how  strange  a  story !) 
In  Theb<  three  thousand  yours  ago, 

When  the  Memnonium  was  in  all  its  glory, 
And  time  hud  nut  begun  to  overthrow 

Those  temples,  palaces,  and  piles  stupendous, 

( »f  w  hich  the  very  ruin.,  are  t  remendous. 

Speak  !  for  thou  loi  jh  hasl  acted  dummy ; 

Thou  1 1 ; i ~ t  a  tongue — come,  lei  as  hear  its  tune; 
Thou'ri  standing  on  thy  legs,  above  ground,  mummy, 

Revisiting  the  glimpses  of  the  moon — 


358  EGYPTIAN  FOLK-LOBE. 

Not  like  thin  ghosts  or  disembodied  creatures, 

But  with  thy  bones,  and  flesh,  and  limbs,  and  features. 

Tell  us — for  doubtless  thou  canst  recollect — 
To  whom  should  we  assign  the  Sphinx's  fame  ? 

Was  Cheops  or  Cephrenes  architect 

Of  either  pyramid  that  bears  his  name  ? 

Is  Pompey's  Pillar  really  a  misnomer? 

Had  Thebes  a  hundred  gates,  as  sung  by  Homer? 

Perhaps  thou  wert  a  Mason,  and  forbidden 
By  oath  to  tell  the  secrets  of  thy  trade  ; 

Then  say,  what  secret  melody  was  hidden 

In  Memnon's  statue,  which  at  sunrise  played  ? 

Perhaps  thou  wert  a  priest— if  so,  my  struggles 

Are  vain,  for  priestcraft  never  owns  its  juggles. 

Perhaps  that  very  hand,  now  pinioned  flat, 

Has  hob-a-nobbed  with  Pharaoh,  glass  to  glass  ; 

Or  dropped  a  halfpenny  in  Homer's  hat ; 
Or  doffed  thine  own  to  let  Queen  Dido  pass; 

Or  held,  by  Solomon's  own  invitation, 

A  torch  at  the  great  temple's  dedication. 

I  need  not  ask  thee  if  that  hand,  when  armed, 
Has  any  Roman  soldier  mauled  and  knuckled ; 

For  thou  wert  dead,  and  buried,  and  embalmed, 
Ere  Romulus  and  Remus  had  been  suckled  : 

Antiquity  appears  to  have  begun 

Long  after  thy  primeval  race  was  run. 

Thou  couldst  develop— if  that  withered  tongue 
Might  tell  us  what  those  sightless  orbs  have  seen— 

How  the  world  looked  when  it  was  fresh  and  young, 
And  the  great  deluge  still  had  left  it  green  ; 

Or  was  it  then  so  old  that  history's  pages 

Contained  no  record  of  its  early  ages  ? 

Still  silent !  incommunicative  elf ! 

Art  sworn  to  secrecy  ?     Then  keep  thy  vows ; 


ADDRESS  TO   THE  MUMMY.  359 

But  prithee  tell  us  something  of  thyself — 
Reveal  the  secrets  of  thy  prison-house; 
Since  in  the  world  of  .spirits  thou  hast  slumbered, 
What  hast  thou  seen,  what  strange  adventures  numbered? 

Since  first  thy  form  was  in  this  box  extended, 

We  have,  above  ground,  seen  some  strange  mutations; 

The  Roman  Empire  has  begun  and  ended — 

New  worlds  have  risen — we  have  lost  old  nations; 

And  countless  kings  haw  into  dust  been  humbled, 

While  not  a  fragment  of  thy  flesh  has  crumbled. 

Didst  thou  not  hear  the  pother  o'er  thy  head, 
When  the  great  Persian  conqueror,  Cambyses, 

Marched  armies  o'er  thy  tomb  with  thundering  tread — 
O'erthrew  Osiris,  Orus,  Apis,  Isis; 

And  shook  the  pyramids  with  fear  and  wonder, 

When  the  gigantic  Memnou  fell  asunder? 

If  the  tomb's  secrets  may  not  be  confessed, 

'I'le'  nature  of  thy  private  life  unfold  : 
A  heart  has  throbbed  beneath  that  leathern  breast, 

And  tears  adown  that  dusty  cheek  have  rolled  ; 
Have  children  climbed  those  knees,  and  kissed  that  face? 
What  was  thy  name  and  station,. age  and  race? 

Statue  of  flesh     Immortal  of  the  dead  ! 

Imperishable  type  of  evanescence  ! 
Posthumous  man — who  quit's!  thy  narrow  bed, 

And  standest  undecayed  within  our  presence! 
Thou  wilt  hear  nothing  till  the  judgmenl  morning, 
When  the  greal  trump  -hall  thrill  thee  with  its  warning. 

Why  should  this  worthless  tegument  endure, 

If  its  undying  forever? 

oh,  let,  ii-  keep  thr  -oul  embalmed  and  pure 

In  living  virtue     that  when  both  musl  sever, 
Although  corruption  may  our  frame  consume, 
'I'll'  immortal  Bpirii  in  :  maj  bloom  ! 


360  EGYPTIAN  FOLK-LORE. 

HYMN    TO   THE    NILE. 
{From  the  Egyptian  of  Enna.) 

TRANSLATED   BY    F.    C.    COOK. 

Hail  to  thee,  0  Nile  ! 
Thou  shewest  thyself  in  this  land, 
Coming  in  peace,  giving  life  to  Egypt  : 
0  Amnion,  thou  leadest  night  unto  day, 
A  leading  that  rejoices  the  heart ! 
Overflowing  the  gardens  created  by  Ra; 
Giving  life  to  all  animals  ; 
Watering  the  land  without  ceasing  ; 
The  way  of  heaven  descending  : 
Lover  of  food,  bestower  of  corn, 
Giving  light  to  every  home,  0  Ptah  ! 

Bringer  of  food  !     Great  lord  of  provisions ! 

Creator  of  all  good  things  ! 

Lord  of  terrors  and  of  choicest  joys  ! 

All  are  combined  in  him. 

He  produceth  grass  for  the  oxen ; 

Providing  victims  for  every  god. 

The  choice  incense  is  that  which  he  supplies. 

Lord  in  both  regions, 

He  filleth  the  granaries,  enricheth  the  storehouses, 

He  careth  for  the  state  of  the  poor. 

He  canseth  growth  to  fulfill  all  desires, 

He  never  wearies  of  it. 

He  maketh  his  might  a  buckler. 

He  is  not  graven  in  marble, 

As  an  image  bearing  the  double  crown. 

He  is  not  beheld  : 

He  hath  neither  ministrants  nor  offerings: 


BYMN  TO  THE  NILE.  361 

He  is  not  adored  in  sanctuaries  : 

His  abode  is  not  known  : 

No  shrine  is  found  with  painted  figures. 

The  inundation  comes,  then  cometh  rejoicing  ; 

Every  heart  exulteth  : 

The  tooth  of  the  crocodiles,  the  children  of  Neith, 

Even  the  circle  of  the  gods  who  are  counted  with  thee, 

Doth  not  its  outburst  water  the  fields, 

Overcoming  mortals  with  joy ! 

Watering  one  to  produce  another. 

There  is  none  who  worketh  with  him; 

Ee  produceth  food  without  the  aid  of  Neith. 

Mortals  he  causes  to  rejoice. 

He  giveth  light  on  his  coming  from  darkness ; 

In  the  pastures  of  his  cattle 

His  might  produceth  all : 

What  was  not,  his  moisture  hringeth  to  life. 

Men  are  clothed  to  fill  his  gardens  : 

Be  careth  for  his  laborers. 

Be  maketh  even  and  noontide, 

Be  is  the  infinite  Ptah  and  Kabes. 

lb-  createth  all  works  therein, 

All  writings,  all  Bacred  words, 

All  his  implements  in  the  North. 

(>  inundation  of  Nile,  offerings  are  made  to  thee; 

are  -lain  in  thee  ; 
Croat  festivals  are  kepi  for  the,-  ; 

crificed  t"  t hee  ; 
Beasts  of  the  Held  are  caughl  for  thee ; 
Pure  flames  are  offered  to  thee ; 
Offerings  are  made  to  every  god, 

A     they  are  made  unto  Nile. 

[ncense  ascends  unto  heaven, 


362  EGYPTIAN  FOLK-LORE. 

Oxen,  bulls,  fowls  are  burnt ! 

Nile  makes  for  himself  chasms  in  the  Thebaic! ; 

Unknown  is  his  name  in  heaven, 

He  doth  not  manifest  his  forms  ! 

Vain  are  all  representations  ! 

Mortals  extol  him,  and  the  cycle  of  gods  ! 

Awe  is  felt  by  the  terrible  ones ; 

His  son  is  made  lord  of  all, 

To  enlighten  all  Egypt. 

Shine  forth,  shine  forth,  0  Nile  !  shine  forth  ! 

Giving  life  to  men  by  his  oxen  : 

Giving  life  to  his  oxen  by  the  pastures ! 

Shine  forth  in  glory,  0  Nile  ! 


ISIS  AND    OSIRIS. 

BY    EDMUND    SPENSER. 

Well,  therefore,  did  the  antique  world  invent 
That  Iustice  was  a  god  of  soveraine  grace, 
And  altars  unto  him  and  temples  lent, 
And  heavenly  honours  in  the  highest  place , 
Calling  him  great  Osyris,  of  the  race 
Of  th'  old  ^Egyptian  kings  that  whylome  were ; 
With  fayned  colours  shading  a  true  case ; 
For  that  Osyris,  whilest  he  lived  here, 
The  iustest  man  alive  and  truest  did  appeare. 

His  wife  was  Isis;  whom  they  likewise  made 
A  goddesse  of  great  powre  and  soverainty, 
And  in  her  person  cunningly  did  shade 
That  part  of  Iustice  which  is  Equity, 
Whereof  I  have  to  treat  here  presently : 
Unto  whose  Temple  whenas  Britomart 


ISIS  AND   OSIRIS.  363 

Arrived,  she  with  great  humility 
Did  enter  in,  ne  would  that  night  depart; 
But  Talus  mote  not  be  admitted  to  her  part. 

There  she  received  was  in  goodly  wize 
Of  many  priests,  which  duely  did  attend 
Upon  the  rites  and  daily  sacrifize, 
All  clad  in  linnen  robes  with  silver  hemd ; 
And  on  their  heads  with  long  looks  comely  kerad 
They  wore  rich  mitres  shaped  like  the  moone, 
To  shew  that  Isis  doth  the  moone  portend  ; 
Like  as  Osyris  signifies  the  sunne  : 
For  that  they  both  like  race  in  equall  iustice  runne. 

The  Championessc  them  greeting,  as  she  could, 
Was  thence  by  them  into  the  Temple  led; 
"Whose  goodly  building  when  she  did  behould 
Borne  upon  stately  pillours,  all  dispred 
With  Bhining  gold,  and  arched  over  head, 

wondred  at  the  workman's  passing  skill, 
Whose  like  before  she  never  .-aw  nor  read; 
And  thereupon  long  while  stood  gazing  still, 
But  though!  thai  .-he  thereon  could  never  gaze  her  fill. 

Thenceforth  unto  the  Moll  they  her  brought; 

The  which  wa<  framed  all  of  Bilver  line, 

So  well  as  could  with  cunning  hand  he  wrought. 
Ami  clothed  all  in  garments  made  of  line, 
■    Hemd  all  about  with  fringe  of  silver  twine: 
Upon  her  head  .-he  wore  a  crowne  of  gold, 
To  .-hew  thai  -he  had  powre  in  things  divine; 
d  at  her  fe.-te  ;i  crocodile  was  rold, 

with  her  wreath,',!  tail*-  her  middle  did  enfold. 

One  foote  was  Be1  apon  the  crocodile, 

And  on  the  ground  the  other  fa-t  did  stand  ; 

So  meaning  to  Buppresse  both  forged  guile 

And  open  fore,-  :   and   in  her  oilier  hand 


364  EGYPTIAN  FOLK-LORE. 

She  stretched  forth  a  long  white  sclender  wand. 
Such  was  the  goddesse  :  whom  when  Britomart 
Had  long  beheld,  herselfe  upon  the  land 
She  did  prostrate,  and  with  right  humble  hart 
Unto  herselfe  her  silent  prayers  did  impart. 


TO    THE    NILE. 

BY   BAYARD    TAYLOR. 

Mysterious  Flood — that  through  the  silent  sands 

Hast  wandered,  century  on  century, 
Watering  the  length  of  great  Egyptian  lauds, 
Which  were  not,  but  for  thee — 

Art  thou  the  keeper  of  that  eldest  lore, 

Written  ere  yet  thy  hieroglyphs  began, 
When  dawned  upon  thy  fresh,  untrampled  shore 
The  earliest  life  of  Man  ? 

Thou  guardest  temple  and  vast  pyramid, 

Where  the  gray  Past  records  its  ancient  speech  ; 
But  in  thine  unrevealing  breast  lies  hid 
What  they  refuse  to  teach. 

All  other  streams  with  human  joys  and  fears 

Run  blended,  o'er  the  plains  of  History  : 
Thou  tak'st  no  note  of  Man ;  a  thousand  years 

Are  as  a  day  to  thee. 

* 

What  were  to  thee  the  Osirian  festivals  ? 

Or  Memnon's  music  on  the  Theban  plain? 
The  carnage,  when  Cambyses  made  thy  halls 
Buddy  with  royal  slain  ? 

Even  then  thou  wast  a  god,  and  shrines  were  built 

For  worship  of  thine  own  majestic  flood  ; 
For  thee  the  incense  burned — for  thee  was  spilt 
The  sacrificial  blood. 


TO   THE  NILE.  365 

And  past  the  bannered  pylons  that  arose 

Above  thy  palms,  the  pageantry  and  state, 
Thy  current  flowed,  calmly  as  now  it  flows, 

Unchangeable  as  Fate. 

Thou  givest  blessing  as  a  god  might  give, 

Whose  being  is  his  bounty  :  from  the  slime 
Shaken  from  off  thy  skirts  the  nations  live, 
Through  all  the  years  <>f  Time. 

In  thy  solemnity,  thine  awful  calm, 

Thy  grand  indifference  of  Destiny, 
My  soul  forgets  its  pain,  and  drinks  the  balm 
\\  hich  thou  dost  proffer  me. 

Thy  godship  is  unquestioned  still  :  I  bring 

No  doubtful  worship  t<>  thy  shrine  supreme; 
But  thus  my  homage  as  a  chaplet  fling, 

To  lloat  upon  thy  stream  ! 


PEKSIAN  FOLK-LOKE. 

The  ancient  religion  of  Iran,  or  Persia,  seems  to  have 
been  far  removed  from  the  degrading  forms  of  superstition 
so  common  among  old  nations.  It  recognized  a  Supreme 
Being,  the  Greater  and  governor  of  the  universe,  and  it  incul- 
cated a  spirit  of  love  for  God  and  man. 

The  sun  was  esteemed  and  worshiped  as  the  emblem 
and  image  of  Deity  ;  and  a  sacred  fire,  kindled  originally  in 
some  way  by  sunbeams,  was  kept  and  replenished  with  great 
care  and  never  suffered  to  become  extinguished.  It  is,  in 
fact,  still  burning,  after  the  lapse  of  unnumbered  centuries. 

The  originally  pure  worship  of  the  Almighty  became  cor- 
rupted in  the  course  of  time.  The  objects  of  adoration  were 
multiplied,  and  numerous  temples  were  erected  in  honor  of 
the  moon  and  stars.  Images  were  set  up,  and  extensive 
ceremonials  were  invented. 

Then  arose  Zoroaster,  or  Zarathustra,  the  philosopher  and 
reformer.  He  is  supposed  to  have  lived  more  than  fifteen 
centuries  before  Christ,  though  it  must  be  admitted  that  his 
time  is  left  to  conjecture. 

The  Avesta,  the  sacred  book  of  the  Fire-worshipers,  is 
supposed  to  be,  in  part  at  least,  the  work  of  this  "  Bactrian 
seer,"  though  with  many  alterations  and  additions,  the  in- 
evitable results  of  centuries  of  oral  transmission,  as  we  can 
hardly  suppose  the  book  to  have  been  compiled  and  written 
in  its  present  form  much  earlier  than  five  centuries  before 
Christ,  and  many  assign  a  date  centuries  later.  It  is  written 
in  the  Zend,  a  tongue  which  presents  peculiar  difficulties  to 


PERSIAN  FOLK-LORE.  367 

the  modern  scholar.  The  teachings  of  the  book  are  in  a 
large  measure  true  and  ennobling. 

The  original  MAGI  of  Media  were  worshipers  of  Ahri- 
man,  as  well  as  of  Ormazd.  Devil-worship  was  strictly  for- 
bidden by  Zoroaster,  and  the  Magi  became  the  priests  of  the 
reformed  faith  in  Persia.  These  ancient  priests  were  also 
instructors  and  philosophers,  and,  from  their  wisdom,  were 
believed  to  possess  supernatural  powers.  From  their  name 
is  derived  our  word  magic.  It  is  supposed  that  the  "  wise 
men  from  the  East,"  who  came  to  greet  the  new-born  Sav- 
iour, were  .Magi. 

Persia  was  conquered  by  the  invading  hosts  of  the  Caliph 
Omar  (a.  d.  G-tl),  and  the  Mohammedan  religion  was  en- 
forced with  the  -word.  Scarcely  any  toleration  was  shown 
the  ancient  faith,  and  its  devotees  were  driven  to  the  deserts 
and  to  foreign  lands. 

The  Pabsees  (or  Guebres,  as  they  are  called  in  con- 
tempt by  the  Mohammedans)  still  preserve  the  old  religion 
in  its  purity.  They  number,  probably,  no  more  than  a  hun- 
dred and  fifty  thousand  Hindus  and  Persians.  As  a  class 
they  are  highly  respectable. 

Obmazd,  or  Oromazes  (Ahura-mazda— all-bountiful  or 
all-wise),  is  the  name  under  which  the  Supreme  Being  was 
worshiped  in  ancienl  Persia.  Omnipotent,  omniscient,  om- 
nipresent, perfecl  in  goodness,  he  possessed  attributes  ac- 
corded to  the  God  of  Christian  nations,  lie  was  supposed  to 
have  revealed  himself  to  Zoroaster,  by  whom  he  was  repre- 
sented as  dwelling  in  the  light  which  pervades  the  universe. 

<  iromazi  .  radiant  source  of  pood, 
Original,  immortal,  Framed  the  globe 
In  frail  fulness  and  beauty. 

— Richard  Glover's  "Leonidaa." 

Ahuimw,  or  Arimaniua  (Angrd-mainyus— dark  mind), 
was  the  Persian  Satan— -a  personification  of  evil  and  dark- 
ness, the  tempter  and  corrupter  of  men. 


368  PERSIAN  FOLK-LOBE. 

— Arimanius  blacken'd  all  the  soul 
With  falsehood  and  injustice,  with  desires 
Insatiable,  with  violence  and  rage, 
Malignity  and  folly. 

— Richard  Glover's  "  Leonidas." 

Mithras,  inferior  to  Ormazd,  but  partaking  of  the  divine 
nature,  is  sometimes  represented  as  seated  nearest  the  throne 
of  the  Eternal.  He  is  generally  supposed  to  have  been  merely 
a  personification  of  the  sun. 

The  sun, 
Refulgent  Mithras,  purest  spring  of  light 
And  genial  warmth,  whence  teeming  Nature  smiles, 
Burst  from  the  east  at  his  creating  voice. 

— Richard  Glover's  "  Leonidas." 

Sraosha,  or  Serosh,  was  the  leader  of  the  Ahtjras,  or 
good  angels.  Of  the  latter  there  were  six  notable  Amesha- 
spentas,  or  Holy  Immortals  ;  Vohu-hano,  presiding  over 
the  good  mind ;  Asha-vahista,  over  truth ;  Shahkavar, 
over  wealth ;  Spenta-armaiti,  over  the  earth  ;  Haurvatat, 
over  health;  and  Ameretat,  over  immortality. 

Opposed  to  these  were  Ako-mano,  the  bad  mind;  Isr- 
dra,  the  storm-sender,  etc.  No  images  of  Ormazd  or  of  the 
Amesha-spentas  were  made  by  the  earlier  Fire-worshipers. 
Later,  a  robed  and  crowned  figure,  encircled  by  a  winged 
ring,  was  used  as  an  emblem  of  the  Deity.  This  was  bor- 
rowed from  the  Syrians. 

Gexii  were  spirits  of  good  and  evil,  intermediate  in  rank 
between  angels  and  men,  created  of  fire,  and  generally  in- 
visible to  mortal  eyes.  They  were  represented  as  carrying 
on  the  ceaseless  conflict  between  Ormazd  and  Ahriman.  As 
every  individual  was  supposed  to  be  always  attended  by  a 
good  and  an  evil  genius,  these  personified  the  duality  of  mo- 
tive influencing  men  to  righteousness  and  to  sin. 

Peris  were  female  spirits,  descendants  of  fallen  angels, 
and  excluded  from  Paradise  during  a  long  period  of  penance. 
In  their  nature  they  resemble  the  Genii. 


PERSIAN  FOLK-LORE.  369 

'Tis  written  in  the  Book  of  Fate, 
The  Peri  yet  may  be  forgiv'n 
Who  brings  to  this  Eternal  Gate 
The  Gift  that  is  most  dear  to  Beaven. 

— Moore's  "  Paradise  and  the  Peri  "  ("  Lalla  Mookh'7). 

Devas,  or  Divas,  were  demons  of   the  air.      They  were 

strange  compounds  of  Satanic  majesty  and  Puckish  frivolity, 
and  turn  from  deeds  of  colossal  iniquity  to  such  pranks  as 
capturing  Peris  and  confining  them  in  iron  cages  suspended 
from  tall  trees.  They  were  not  always  altogether  bad.  In 
The  Light  of  Asia  (see  Hindu  Mythology)  they  communi- 
cate to  the  palace-imprisoned  Siddartha  by  awaking  his 
iEolian  harp  to  such  strain.-  as  those  : 

We  are  the  voices  of  the  wandering  wind, 
Which  moan  for  rest,  and  rest  can  never  find; 
Lo!  as  the  wind  is,  so  is  mortal  life, 
A  moan,  a  sigh,  a  sob,  a  storm,  a  strife. 

Wherefore  and  whence  we  an'  ye  can  not,  know, 
Nbr  where  life  springs,  nor  whither  life  doth 
We  are  as   ye  are.  ghosts  from  the  inane; 

What  pleasure  have  we  "f  our  changeful  paint 

What  pleasure  has!  thou  of  thy  changeless  Miss? 

if  love  lasted,  there  were  joy  in  this  : 
Bui  lire's  way  is  the  wind's  way;  all  these  things 
Are  hut  brief  v  tices,  breathed  on  shifting  strings. 

0  Maya's  son  !  :  roam  the  earth, 

Moan  we  upon  these  strings;  we  make  no  mirth; 

So  many  v  in  many  lands, 

So  many  streaming  eye   and  wringing  hands. 

Sm.tim   was  the  name  given  to  a  demon  in  human  shape, 
supposed  to  haunt  grovi  rtitary  places. 

To  the  gold  gems  "f  Abie  bound 
u  the  wanderin  -  '  rm, 

'I'.,  keep  him  from  the  SillimV  harm. 

I/bore'   '  '/>'•■    XAght of tlu  II  '■■     ■  R    Ui"). 

I  oi.k   LORE   2  I 


370  PERSIAN  FOLK-LOBE. 

Azrael  is  the  Mohammedan  angel  of  death.  Until  the 
time  of  Mohammed,  he  personally  appeared  to  every  individ- 
ual at  the  time  when  the  predestined  hour  of  dissolution  had 
come,  and  inflicted  the  death  dart  (ferrash).  Later,  on  the 
intercession  of  the  Prophet,  Azrael  was  not  permitted  to 
afflict  the  human  heart  with  the  terror  of  his  appearance, 
and  his  manner  of  releasing  the  soul  was  changed.  Some- 
times he  presents  a  bowl,  from  which  the  expiring  one  must 
drink. 

So  when  the  Angel  of  the  darker  Drink 
At  last  shall  find  you  by  the  river-brink, 
And,  offering  his  Cup,  invite  your  Soul 
Forth  to  your  lips  to  quaff — you  shall  not  shrink. 
— Fitzgerald's  translation  of  Omar  Khayyam's  "Rubaiyat." 

Sometimes  the  Death  Angel  presents  to  the  nostrils  an 
apple  of  the  Tree  of  Life. 

My  feast  is  now  of  the  Tooba  Tree, 
Whose  scent  is  the  breath  of  Eternity. 

— Moore's  "  Paradise  and  the  Peri  "  ("Lalla  Rookh  "), 

Israfil  is  the  Mohammedan  angel  of  music,  the  most 
melodious  of  all  God's  creatures.  He  is  appointed  to  sound 
the  trumpet  at  the  resurrection. 

Eblis  is  the  Mohammedan  Lucifer,  the  only  angel  who 
refused  to  worship  Adam. 

Such  was  the  Essence  that  in  Adam  dwelt, 
To  which  all  Heaven  except  the  Proud  One  knelt. 
— Moore's  "Veiled  Prophet  of  Jvlwrassan"  ("Lalla  RooJch"). 

Monkie  and  Nakir  are  two  terrible  angels,  who  are 
known  as  the  Searchers  of  the  Grave. 

Uriel  is  the  Mohammedan  angel  of  fire.  He  is  men- 
tioned in  the  Apocrypha  (II  Esdras  iv,  1).  Milton  called 
him  the  "  Regent  of  the  Sun,"  and  the  "  sharpest-sighted 
spirit  of  all  in  heaven." 

Line  in  nature  is  not  found  ; 
Unit  and  universe  are  round  ; 


PERSIAN  FOLK-LORE.  371 

In  vain  produced,  all  rays  return  ; 
Evil  will  bless,  and  ice  will  burn. 
As  Uriel  spoke  with  piercing  eye, 
A  shudder  ran  around  the  sky. 

— Emerson's  "  Uriel" 

Al  Borak  was  the  celestial  steed  on  which  Mohammed 
rode  in  a  night  from  Mecca  to  Jerusalem  and  to  the  seventh 
heaven,  guided  by  the  angel  Gabriel.  Its  face  was  human, 
its  wings  were  an  eagle's,  its  color  was  milk-white. 

The  IlYA/.tM  was  the  horse  on  which  the  angel  Gabriel 
rode  to  the  assistance  of  Mohammed  at  Bedar,  leading  three 
thousand  angels. 

Al  Sikat  is  the  bridge  extending  from  this  world  to  the 
Mohammedan  heaven.  Its  breadth  is  less  than  a  spider 
thread,  and  it  leads  over  hell. 

Al  Hakim  Ie  the  Mohammedan  paradise,  having 

charge  of  correspondence  and  messages. 

Shaddad  was  a  mythical  hero  who  prepared  the  sump- 
tuous gardens  of  Iran,  in  imitation  of  paradise,  but  on  enter- 
ing them  was  killed  by  lightning. 

Zc  i.i.i  ix  \  is  the  name  given  in  the  Orient  to  the  wife  of 
Potiphar  of  Scripture,  who  figures  prominently  in   Eastern 

romance. 

Jan  Ii;\  Jaw  was  a  mythical  pre- Adamite  ruler,  who  built 
Baalbec  and  Chilminar  (the  palace  ;d  Persepolis),  through 
'  ( ienii. 

Jamshyd  was  the  mythical  King  Splendid  of  Persepolis, 
of  whose  palace  it  is  said  thai  the  (ienii  who  erected  it  con- 
cealed in  the  subterranean  vaultsavi  ire.  Jamshyd's 
seven-ringed  divining  cup  was  typical  of  the  -even  heaven-, 
-even  plan-:-,  and                as,  etc.     [i        aid  to  have  been 

found  in  the  ruin8. 

Wisely  -aid  the  Kaisar  Jamschid, 
"'I'll.'  world's  not  worth  a  barley  corn." 

/.  ■i<,n  from  //>•■  /'•  I  '   H 


372  PERSIAN  FOLK-LORE. 

Mokanna  (veiled)  was  a  hideous  impostor,  whose  real 
name  was  Hakim  ben  Allah,  and  who  arose  in  Khorassan  in 
the  eighth  century,  as  related  in  Persian  history.  He  veiled 
his  face,*pre tending, thus  to  conceal  a  divine  radiance  of  glory. 

O'er  his  features  hung 
The  Veil,  the  Silver  Veil,  which  he  had  flung 
In  mercy  there,  to  hide  from  mortal  sight 
Ilis  dazzling  brow,  till  man  could  bear  its  light. 
— Moore's  "  Veiled  Prophet  of  Khorassan  "  {"■Lalla  Rookh  "). 

Kaikobad,  the  Cabades  of  history,  was  a  contemporary 
of  Justinian.  He  is  celebrated  in  Persian  story  as  a  type 
of  the  magnificence  of  ancient  Oriental  monarchs. 

Baheam  GrUE  was  a  ruler  of  the  Sassanian  line,  who  is 
said  to  have  possessed  seven  castles,  each  tenanted  by  a 
princess  of  surpassing  loveliness. 

Rustum,  the  son  of  the  fair-haired  Zal,  was  a  giant  of 
Persian  legend,  famed  for  his  victory  over  the  Sepid  Diva, 
or  White  Demon,  still  commemorated  by  a  monument  near 
the  city  of  Shiraz. 

Rustum  wedded  the  fair  princess  Tahmineh,  of  Samen- 
gan,  from  whom  he  was  soon  parted  by  the  fortunes  of  war. 
He  directed  that  if  a  girl  should  be  born  to  him  his  amulet 
should  be  worn  in  her  hair  ;  if  a  son,  it  should  be  attached 
to  his  arm.  A  son,  Soheab,  was  born,  but  was  falsely 
reported  to  the  father  to  be  a  girl.  When  grown  to  man's 
estate  the  son  set  forth  to  seek  his  father,  whom  he  unwit- 
tingly encountered  in  battle,  and  by  whom  he  was  slain. 

Hatim  Tai  was  an  opulent  and  benevolent  character 
famous  in  Eastern  story  for  his  generous  deeds. 

Let  Zal  and  Rustum  bluster  as  they  will, 
Or  Hatim  call  to  Supper — heed  not  you. 
— Fitzgerald's  translation  of  Omar  Khayyam' 's  "  Rubaiyat." 

Saki  (cup-bearer),  the  "  Cypress-slender  Minister  of 
Wine,"  addressed  in  the  Rubaiyat,  may  have  been  a  mere 
type  of  female  loveliness,  or  the  name  may  have  been  applied 


NOTES  OF  LITERATURE.  373 

to  one  of  the  maids  of  Naishapur,  especially  dear  to  the  heart 
of  the  astronomer-poet. 

And  when,  like  her,  0  Saki,  you  shall  pass 
Among  the  guests  star-scattered  on  the  Grass, 

Ami  in  your  joyous  errand  reach  the  spot 
Where  1  made  One — turn  down  an  empty  Glass. 
— FitzytmlJ's  translation  of  Dinar  Khayyam's  "  Iiubdiydt." 

NOTES    OF    LITERATURE    RELATING  TO    PERSIAN    FOLK-LORE. 

The  Avesta  is  a  work  of  great  interest  to  Oriental  scholars.  An  ac- 
count is  given  of  the  creation  of  the  world  ;  of  the  primal  innocence  of 
man  in  Paradise,  and  his  fall  through  the  subtle  temptation  of  Ahri- 
man  ;  of  a  deluge  which  swept  from  the  earth  a  generation  of  the 
wicked.  All  this  reminds  us  of  the  Scripture  narrative.  The  analogy 
is  carried  still  further  by  the  Avestan  doctrine  of  future  rewards  and 
punishments,  and  of  the  final  restoration  of  the  world.  The  book  con- 
tain- Gathas  (hymns),  prayers,  and  precepts,  and  supposed  discourses 
and  conversations. 

It  is  insisted  thai  the  Avesta  teaches  a  pure  monotheism,  and  that  its 
expressions  which  seem  to  refer  to  various  divinities  are  hut  strong  char- 
acterizations of  angelic  beings  strictly  subordinate  to  the  Infinite  One, 
or  impersonations  "f  \  in  ues.  Of  all  systems  of  natural  religion  that  of 
ita  is  believed  to  be  nearesl  the  truth,  though  it  is  nol  wholly 
free  from  superstition  .and  overwrought  ritualism.  Prom  Etawlinson's 
translation  of  one  <>f  the  Gathas  assigned  t<>  Zoroaster,  the  following 
stanza>  are  taken  : 

They  could  not  rightly  discern  who  erred  and  worshiped  the  Devas; 

They  the  Bad  Spirit  chose,  ami,  having  held  counsel  together, 
Tnnie. |  to  Rapine,  that  bo  they  might  make  man's  life  an  affliction, 
Mazda,  the  time  will  come  when  the  crimes  <>f  the  bad  shall  be  pun- 
ished. 

Then  -hull  thy  power  he  displayed  in  fitly  rewarding  the  righteoi 

hat  have  bound  and  delivered  up  falsehood  to  Asha,  the  Truth- 
God. 

'hen  lie  of  those  who  advance  this  world  ami  improve  it, 
o  Ahura-mazda,  0  Truth-God,  bliss  conferring ! 

i  t  here  where  wisdom  abidel  h  ! 

i,  if  you  hut  cling  to  the  precepts  Mazda  has  given, 

rhich  t"  the  bad  are  a  torment,  hut  joy  to  the  ri 
Then    hail  you  one  <lay  find  youi  u    through  them. 

George  Ran  tin  .\  ncu  nt  World." 


374  PERSIAN  FOLK-LOBE. 

Bahram  Gur  is  the  subject  of  a  famous  Persian  poem  by  Amir 
Khusraw.  Each  of  the  royal  ladies  of  the  Seven  Castles  relates  to  the 
sovereign  a  tale,  all  of  which  narratives,  taken  together,  form  a  delight- 
ful volume  of  mythical  lore. 

Nine  centuries  ago  the  Persian  poet  Abu'l  Kasim  Mansiir  won  the 
favor  of  his  monarch  by  composing  the  Song  of  Rustum,  and  was  hon- 
ored with  the  designation  Firdausi  (the  one  from  Paradise),  which  he 
has  ever  since  borne  in  letters.  His  greatest  work  was  the  Shdh-ndma, 
or  Book  of  the  Kings,  for  which  he  was  to  receive  half  as  many  gold 
pieces  as  there  were  lines.  His  poem,  when  completed,  consisted  of 
sixty  thousand  couplets.  The  promise  of  the  Shah  was  not  kept  as  to 
the  payment  for  the  work  ;  and  the  aged  poet,  having  in  scorn  paid  his 
reward  for  a  bath  and  a  single  cup  of  ale,  fled  from  home  and  soon 
died.  Among  the  most  noted  characters  of  the  Shdh-ndma  are  Zal,  his 
mistress  (Rodahver),  and  Rustum.  The  poem  contains  points  of  resem- 
blance to  the  Nibelungenlied. 

Omar  Khayyam,  the  astronomer  poet  of  Persia,  who  flourished  about 
eight  centuries  ago,  seems  to  have  regarded  with  amused  indifference 
the  religious  convictions  of  his  fellow  men.  Acute  philosophical  insight 
and  deep  thought  on  the  problems  of  human  life  and  destiny  are  re- 
vealed in  his  graver  quatrains,  though  these  are  strangely  interspersed 
with  bacchanalian  stanzas.  Of  religious  feeling  he  possessed  scarcely 
a  trace.  However  faithfully  he  may  have  expressed  the  Oriental's  sen- 
suous love  for  flowers  and  fruits  and  female  beauty,  the  irreligious  tend- 
encies of  his  writings  rendered  them  obnoxious  to  the  pious  instincts 
of  his  countrymen,  and  his  influence  was  therefore  inconsiderable. 

The  Rubdiydt  of  Omar  is,  with  us,  the  best  known  composition  of 
Persian  literature.  With  it  is  indissolubly  linked  the  fame  of  our  own 
artist  Vedder,  whose  interpretation  and  embellishment  in  art  have 
added  immeasurably  to  its  meaning  and  value.  The  oldest  English 
manuscript  of  the  poem  was  prepared  at  Shiraz,  in  1460,  but  it  is 
only  of  late  that  the  work  has  become  generally  known. 

"  Omar,"  it  has  been  said,  "  more  desperate  (than  others)  or  more 
careless  of  any  so  complicated  system  as  resulted  in  nothing  but  hope- 
less necessity,  flung  his  own  genius  and  learning  with  a  bitter  or  hu- 
morous jest  into  that  general  ruin  which  their  insufficient  glimpses 
only  served  to  reveal ;  and,  pretending  sensual  pleasure  as  the  serious 
purpose  of  life,  only  diverted  himself  with  speculative  problems  of 
Deity,  destiny,  matter  and  spirit,  good  and  evil,  and  other  such  ques- 
tions, easier  to  start  than  to  run  down,  and  the  pursuit  of  which  became 
a  weary  sport  at  least."  It  should  be  stated,  however,  that  there  are 
those  who  regard  the  Rubdiydt  as  a  mystical  poem,  veiling  the  Deity 
under  emblematic  forms  of  wine,  etc. 


.     MOTES  OF  LITERATURE.  S7S 

A  few  of  the  Rubaiydt  (the  word  means  fcetrastichs,  or  stanzas  of 
four  lines)  will  serve  to  indicate  the  character  of  the  whole. 

I  sometimes  think  that  never  blows  so  red 
The  Rose,  as  where  some  buried  Caesar  Med; 
Thai  every  Hyacinth  the  Garden  wears 
•  in  her  Lap  from  some  once  lovely  Head. 

With  solemn  voice  the  p  >em  speaks  of  the  ephemeral  nature  of  the 
human  form,  and  of  the  record  made  in  life  for  good  or  ill. 

Tis  but  a  Tent,  where  takes  his  one  day's  rest 
dtan  to  the  realm  of  Death  addresl  ; 
The  Sultan  rises,  and  the  dark  Ferrash 
Strikes,  and  prepares  it  for  another  Guest. 

The  Moving  Finger  writes:  and,  having  writ, 
Moves  "ii :  nor  all  your  Piety  nor  V\  it 

Shall  lure  it  back  to  cancel  half  a  Line, 
Nor  all  your  Tears  wash  out  a  Word  of  it. 

(Tn  the  selections  from  this  famous  poem  the  quaint  capitalization  of 
the  accepted  version  is  followed.) 

Mention  should  be  made  of  the  Swirl,  a  conception  of  Vedder,  now 

.  rnbol  of  the  i in — a  geometric  n  of  the  infinite  past,  the 

culmination  of  life  in  the  finite  present,  and  the  reversal  of  the  current 
into  the  infinite  future. 

The  poei  Hafiz,  of  the  fourteenth  century,  is  called  "the  Anacreon 
of  Persia,"  from  the  celebration  of  love  and  wine  in  his  graceful  lyrics. 

Perhaps  HO  less  BensuOUS  than  Khayyam,  and  certainly  no   friend  of  the 

Sufi<  (members  of  a  religious  order),  lie  yet   managed  nol  t<>  offend  the 
ious  instincts  >>f  his  countrymen.     A  symbolism,  even,  is  claimed 
for  his  love  and  wine,  and  a  deep  religious  meaning  has  been  assigned 
tu  |)|(.  ,,,,,  ..f  Solomon's  Song 

among  Christians.    Strap  both  the  literal  and  symbolical  mean- 

ings are  accept*  -I.  and  th  tor  a 

bacchanalian  song  and  a<  another  fur  a  religious  exerci  e. 

Thoraae  Moore's  Lalla  Rookh,  which  in  our  century  introduced  into 
flish  literature  the  rose  tint  and  fragrance  <>f  Oriental  poetry  and 
romance,  and  broughl  delighl  to  myriads  of  readers,  relates  chiefly  to 
ian  history  and  mythology.     It   is  rather  a  collection  of  poems, 
ly  Btrung  together,  tl  •  composition. 

Of  these  poems  The  Veiled  Prophet  of  Kho  narra- 

tive of  thrilling  inb  with  the  baleful  career  and  the  o 

throw  of  tie-  false  prophel   Mokanna.    Parodist   and  tin  /' 
poem  recounting  the  penance  of  a  Peri  and  her  admission  to 


376  PERSIAN  FOLK-LOBE. 

is  notable  for  its  expressions  of  rapture  of  the  soul  on  entering  heaven. 
The  Fire-worshipers  is  a  tale  of  love  and  tragedy  based  on  the  con- 
quest of  Persia  by  the  Mohammedans. 

Matthew  Arnold  has  rendered  into  English  an  episode  of  the  Shdh- 
nama,  which  forms  an  admired  poem,  entitled  Sohrab  and  Eustum. 

John  G.  Saxe  is  the  author  of  a  number  of  short  poems  based  on 
legends  of  Persia  and  Arabia.  These  have  generally  a  true  Oriental 
sententiousness,  and  are  happily  expressed. 

The  German  poet  Goethe  wrote,  in  the  early  years  of  this  century 
(in  1814-1819),  the  West-Eastern  Divan,  a  volume  of  twelve  small  books, 
or  Namas,  of  short  poems  in  the  Persian  style,  which  Oriental  scholars 
greatly  admire  for  its  fidelity  to  the  spirit  of  Eastern  poetry.  Heinrich 
Heine  says  of  this  singular  poetic  cycle :  "  Sometimes  the  reader  may 
imagine  himself  indolently  stretched  upon  a  carpet  of  Persian  softness, 
luxuriously  smoking  the  yellow  tobacco  of  Turkistan,  through  a  long 
tube  of  jessamine  and  amber,  while  a  black  slave  fans  him  with  a  fan  of 
peacock's  feathers,  and  a  little  boy  presents  to  him  a  cup  of  genuine 
Mocha." 

Leigh  Hunt,  English  essayist  and  poet  of  the  first  half  of  the  pres- 
ent century,  was  the  author  of  a  number  of  short  poems  of  the  Orient 
which  have  been  much  admired. 


PARADISE   AND   THE    PERI. 
(From  " Lalla  Bookh") 

BY   THOMAS   MOORE. 

One  morn  a  Peri  at  the  gate 
Of  Eden  stood,  disconsolate; 
And  as  she  listened  to  the  Springs 

Of  Life  within,  like  music  flowing, 
And  caught  the  light  upon  her  wings 

Through  the  half- open  portal  glowing, 
She  wept  to  think  her  recreant  race 
Should  e'er  have  lost  that  glorious  place  ! 

"  How  happy  !  "  exclaim'd  this  child  of  air, 
"Are  the  holy  Spirits  who  wander  there, 
'Mid  flowers  that  never  shall  fade  or  fall ; 


PARADISE  AjYD   TEE  PERI.  377 

Though  mine  are  the  gardens  of  earth  and  sea, 
And  the  stars  themselves  have  flowers  for  me, 

One  blossom  of  heaven  outblooms  them  all ! 
Though  sunny  the  Lake  of  cool  Cashmere, 
With  its  plane-tree  isle  reflected  clear, 

And  sweetly  the  founts  of  that  valley  fall : 
Tin  nigh  bright  are  the  waters  of  Sing-su-hay, 
And  the  golden  Hoods  that  thitherward  stray, 
Yet — oh,  'tis  only  the  blest  can  say 

How  the  waters  of  heaven  outshine  them  all ! 

"Go,  wing  thy  flight  from  star  to  star, 
From  world  to  luminous  world,  as  far 

As  the  universe  spreads  its  flaming  wall; 
Take  all  the  pleasures  of  all  the  spheres, 
And  multiply  each  through  endless  years, 

One  minute  of  heaven  is  worth  them  all !  " 

The  glorious  Angel,  who  was  keeping 
The  Gates  of  Light,  beheld  her  we. -ping; 
And  as  he  nearer  drew  and  listen'd 
To  her  sad  song,  a  tear-drop  glisten'd 
Within  his  eyelids  like  the  spray 

From  Eden's  fountain,  when  it  lies 
On  the  blue  flower,  which— Bramins  say — 

Blooms  no  ■•  here  bu1  in  Paradi 

"  Nvniph  of  a  fair,  but  erring  line !" 
I  ly  he  said,  "  one  hope  is  thine  : 

"I  i !  written  in  the  Book  of  Fate, 

The  Peri  yet  may  be  forgiven 
Who  brings  to  I  his  Eternal  Gate 

The  Gift  that  is  must  dear  to  Heavrnl 
1       eel  it,  and  redeem  th, 
"I  .      reel  to  let  the  pardon' 

Rapidly  a  run 

To  th'  embraces  <>f  the  Sun : 


<i  in  : 


t " 


378  PERSIAN  FOLK-LOBE. 

Fleeter  than  the  starry  brands, 
Flung  at  night  from  angel  hands 
At  those  dark  and  daring  sprites 
Who  would  climb  th'  empyreal  heights, 
Down  the  blue  vault  the  Peri  flies, 

And,  lighted  earthward  by  a  glance 
That  just  then  broke  from  morning's  eyes, 

Hung  hovering  o'er  our  world's  expanse. 

But  whither  shall  the  Spirit  go 

To  find  this  gift  for  Heaven  ? — "  I  know 

The  wealth,"  she  cries,  "  of  every  urn, 

In  which  unnumber'd  rubies  burn, 

Beneath  the  pillars  of  Chilminar ; 

I  know  where  the  Isles  of  Perfume  are ; " 

Many  a  fathom  down  in  the  sea, 

To  the  south  of  sun-bright  Araby ; 

I  know,  too,  where  the  Genii  hid 

The  jewel'd  cup  of  their  king  Jamshid, 

With  life's  elixir  sparkling  high — 

But  gifts  like  these  are  not  for  the  sky. 

Where  was  there  ever  a  gem  that  shone 

Like  the  steps  of  Alla's  wonderful  Throne? 

And  the  Drops  of  Life — oh  !  what  would  they  be 

In  the  boundless  Deep  of  Eternity?" 

While  thus  she  mused,  her  pinions  fann'd 
The  air  of  that  sweet  Indian  land, 
Whose  air  is  balm;  whose  ocean  spreads 
O'er  coral  rocks  and  amber  beds ; 
Whose  mountains,  pregnant  by  the  beam 
Of  the  warm  sun,  with  diamonds  teem ; 
Whose  rivulets  are  like  rich  brides, 
Lovely,  with  gold  beneath  their  tides ; 
Whose  sandal  groves  and  bowers  of  spice 
Might  be  a  Peri's  Paradise  ! 


PARADISE  AXD   THE  PERI.  379 

But  crimson  now  her  river?  ran 

With  human  blood;  the  smell  of  death 
Came  reeking  from  their  spicy  bowers, 
And  man.  the  sacrifice  of  man. 

Mingled  his  taint  with  every  breath 
Upwafted  from  the  innocent  flowers! 
Land  of  the  Sun!  what  foot  invades 
Thy  pagods  and  thy  pillar'd  shades; 
Thy  cavern  shrines,  and  idol  stones, 
Thy  monarchs  and  their  thousand  thrones? 

'Tis  he  of  Gazna— fierce  in  wrath 
He  comes,  and  India's  diadems 

Lie  scatter'd  in  his  ruinous  path. 
Bis  bloodhounds  be  adorns  with  gems, 

Torn  from  the  violated  necks 
Of  manv  a  young  and  loved  Sultana; 
Maiden--,  within  their  pure  Zenana, 
Priests  in  the  very  fane  he  slaughters, 

1  chokes  up  with  the  glittering  wrecks 
Of  golden  shrines  the  sacred  waters'. 

Downward  the  Peri  turns  her  gaze, 
,1,  through  the  war-field's  bloody  haze, 

Beholds  a  youthful  warrior  stand, 
Alone,  beside  his  native  river—  . 

The  red  blade  broken  in  his  hand 

i  the  la-t  arrow  in  his  quivt  r. 

«  ]  queror,  "  live  to  Bhare 

The  trophies  and  tie'  crowns  I  bear  I" 

Silent  that  youthful  warrior  Btood— 

Silent  he  pointed  to  the  flood 

All  crimson  with  hi-  country's  blood, 

•  remaining  dart, 
I  ..er,  to  th'  invader's  heart. 

Paige  flew  the    haft,  though  pointed  well ; 
The  tyrant  lived,  the  hero  fell!— 


380  PERSIAN  FOLK-LORE. 

Yet  mark'd  the  Peri  where  he  lay, 

And  when  the  rush  of  war  was  past, 
Swiftly  descending  on  a  ray 

Of  morning  light,  she  caught  the  last — 
Last  glorious  drop  his  heart  had  shed, 
Before  its  free-born  spirit  fled  ! 

"  Be  this,"  she  cried,  as  she  wing'd  her  flight, 
"  My  welcome  gift  at  the  Gates  of  Light. 
Though  foul  are  the  drops  that  oft  distill 

On  the  field  of  warfare,  blood  like  this, 

For  liberty  shed,  so  holy  is, 
It  would  not  stain  the  purest  rill 

That  sparkles  among  the  bowers  of  bliss  ! 
Oh  !  if  there  be,  on  this  earthly  sphere, 
A  boon,  an  offering  Heaven  holds  dear, 
'Tis  the  last  libation  Liberty  draws 
From  the  heart  that  bleeds  and  breaks  in  her  cause ! " 

"  Sweet,"  said  the  Angel,  as  she  gave 

The  gift  into  his  radiant  hand, 
"  Sweet  is  our  welcome  of  the  brave 

Who  die  thus  for  their  native  land ; 
But  see,  alas  !  the  crystal  bar 
Of  Eden  moves  not — holier  far 
Than  ev'n  this  drop  the  boon  must  be, 
That  opes  the  Gates  of  Heaven  for  thee ! " 

Her  first  fond  hope  of  Eden  blighted, 
Now  among  Afric's  Lunar  Mountains, 

Far  to  the  south,  the  Peri  lighted; 

And  sleek'd  her  plumage  at  the  fountains 

Of  that  Egyptian  tide,  whose  birth 

Is  hidden  from  the  sons  of  earth, 

Deep  in  those  solitary  woods, 

Where  oft  the  Genii  of  the  Floods 

Dance  round  the  cradle  of  their  Nile, 

And  hail  the  newborn  Giant's  smile  ! 


PARADISE  AjYD   THE  PERL  381 

Thence,  over  Egypt's  palmy  groves, 

Pier  grots,  and  sepulchres  of  kings, 
The  exiled  Spirit  sighing  roves, 
And  now  hangs  listening  to  the  doves 
In  warm  Rosetta's  vale — now  loves 

To  watch  the  moonlight  on  the  wings 
Of  the  white  pelicans  that  break 
The  azure  calm  of  Man-is'  Lake. 
'Twaa  a  fair  scene — a  land  more  bright 

Never  did  mortal  eye  behold  ! 

Who  could  have  thought,  that  saw  this  night 

Those  valleys  and  their  fruits  of  gold 
Basking  in  heaven's  serenest  light ; — 
Those  groups  of  lovely  date-trees  bending 

Languidly  their  leaf-crown'd  heads, 
Like  youthful  maids,  when  sleep  descending 

Warns  them  to  their  silken  beds  ; 
Those  virgin  lilies,  all  the  night 

Bathing  their  beauties  in  the  lake, 
That  they  may  rise  more  fresh  and  bright, 

When  their  beloved  sun's  awake; — 
Those  ruin'd  Bhrines  and  towers  that  seem 
The  relics  of  a  splendid  dream  ; 

Amid  w  ho-''  fairy  loneliness 
Naughl  hut  the  lapwing's  cry  is  heard. 
Naught  Been  but  (when  the  shadows,  flitting 
I        from  the  moon,  unsheatb  its  gleam) 
purple-wing'd  Sultana  sitting 

Upon  a  column,  motionli 
And  glittering,  like  an  idol  bird  ! 
Who  could  have  thought  that  there,  ev'n  there, 
Amid  thi  'id  ''"id  fair, 

The  Demon  of  the-  Plague  hath  cast 
From  hi-  le.t  win:/  a  deadlier  blast, 

More  mortal  far  than  ever  came 

From  the  red  desert1  I  flame  ! 


382  PERSIAN  FOLK-LOBE. 

So  quick,  that  every  living  thing 
Of  human  shape,  touch'd  by  his  wing, 
Like  plants  where  the  simoom  hath  passed 
At  Once  falls  black  and  withering  ! 

The  sun  went  down  on  many  a  brow 

Which,  full  of  bloom  and  freshness  then, 
Is  rankling  in  the  pest-house  now, 

And  ne'er  will  feel  that  sun  again  ! 
And  oh  !  to  see  th'  unburied  heaps 
On  which  the  lonely  midnight  sleeps — 
The  very  vultures  turn  away, 
And  sicken  at  so  foul  a  prey  ! 
Only  the  fierce  hyena  stalks 
Throughout  the  city's  desolate  walks 
At  midnight,  and  his  carnage  plies — 

Woe  to  the  half-dead  wretch,  who  meets 
The  glaring  of  those  large  blue  eyes 

Amid  the  darkness  of  the  streets ! 

"  Poor  race  of  Men  !  "  said  the  pitying  Spirit, 
"  Dearly  ye  pay  for  your  primal  fall ; 

Some  flowerets  of  Eden  ye  still  inherit, 

But  the  trail  of  the  Serpent  is  over  them  all  L" 

She  wept — the  air  grew  pure  and  clear 
Around  her,  as  the  bright  drops  ran ; 

For  there's  a  magic  in  each  tear 
Such  "kindly  spirits  weep  for  man  ! 

Just  then,  beneath  some  orange-trees, 
Whose  fruit  and  blossoms  in  the  breeze 
Were  wantoning  together,  free, 
Like  age  at  play  with  infancy — 
Beneath  that  fresh  and  springing  bower, 

Close  by  the  lake  she  heard  the  moan 
Of  one  who,  at  this  silent  hour, 

Had  thither  stolen  to  die  alone  : 


PARADISE  AjYD   TEE  PERL  383 

One  who  iu  life,  where'er  he  moved, 

Drew  after  him  the  hearts  of  many; 
Yet  now,  as  though  he  ne'er  were  loved, 

Dies  here,  unseen,  unwept  by  any  ! 
None  to  wanh  near  him — none  to  slake 

The  tire  that  in  his  bosom  lies, 
With  ev'n  a  sprinkle  from  that  lake 

Which  shines  so  cool  before  his  eyes. 
No  voice,  well  known  through  many  a  day, 

To  speak  the  last,  the  parting  word, 
Which,  when  all  other  sounds  decay, 

Is  still  like  distant  music  heard; 
That  tender  farewell  on  the  shore 
Of  this  rude  world,  when  all  is  o'er. 
Which  cheers  the  spirit,  ere  its  bark 
Puts  oil  into  the  unknown  dark. 

Deserted  youth!  one  thought  alone 

Shed  joy  around  his  soul  in  death — 
That  die  whom  he  for  years  had  known 
And  loved,  and  might  have  call'd  his  own, 

Was  3afe  from  this  foul  midnight's  breath- 
Safe  in  her  father's  princely  hall-. 
Where  the  COOl  airs  from  fountain-falls, 
Freshly  perfumed   by  many  a  brand 
Of  the  BWeel  wo.id  from  India's  land. 

Were    pure   a<    me    V.llM,r    bl'oW    they    fallll'd. 

Bui  Bee  !— who  yonder  comes  by  stealth, 
This  melancholy  bower  to 

Like  til  '■;■   I  b  alth, 

With  rosy  gifts  upon  In  r  chirk  ? 
'Tis  sh( — far  oiT,  through  moonlighl  dim, 

llr  knew  bis  own  betrothed  bride, 

She,  who  would  rather  die  with  him 

Than  live  to  gain  the  world  beside ! — 


384  PERSIAN  FOLK-LOBE. 

Her  arms  are  round  her  lover  now, 

His  livid  cheeks  to  hers  she  presses, 
And  dips,  to  hind  his  burning  brow, 

I«u  the  cool  lake  her  loosen'd  tresses. 
Ah  !  once,  how  little  did  he  think 
An  hour  would  come  when  he  should  shrink 
With  horror  from  that  dear  embrace, 

Those  gentle  arms  that  were  to  him 
Holy  as  is  the  cradling  place 

Of  Eden's  infant  cherubim  ! 
And  now  he  yields — now  turns  away, 
Shuddering  as  if  the  venom  lay 
All  in  those  proffer'd  lips  alone — 
Those  lips  that,  then  so  fearless  grown, 
Never  until  that  instant  came 
Near  his  unask'd  or  without  shame. 
"  Oh  !  let  me  only  breathe  the  air, 

The  blessed  air,  that's  breathed  by  thee, 
And,  whether  on  its  wings  it  bear 

Healing  or  death,  'tis  sweet  to  me  ! 
There — drink  my  tears,  while  yet  they  fall ; 

Would  that  my  bosom's  blood  were  balm, 
And,  well  thou  know'st,  I'd  shed  it  all, 

To  give  thy  brow  one  minute's  calm. 
Nay,  turn  not  from  me  that  dear  face  : 

Am  I  not  thine — thy  own  loved  bride — 
The  one,  the  chosen  one,  whose  place 

In  life  or  death  is  by  thy  side  ? 
Think'st  thou  that  she,  whose  only  light, 

In  this  dim  world,  from  thee  hath  shone, 
Could  bear  the  long,  the  cheerless  night, 

That  must  be  hers,  when  thou  art  gone  ? 
That  I  can  live  and  let  thee  go, 
Who  art  my  life  itself  ?     No,  no. 
When  the  stem  dies,  the  leaf  that  grew 
Out  of  its  heart  must  perish  too ! 


PARADISE  AMD   THE  PERI.  385 

Then  turn  to  me,  my  own  love,  turn, 
Before,  like  thee,  I  fade  and  burn  ; 
Cling  to  these  yet  cool  lips,  and  share 
The  last  pure  life  that  lingers  there!" 
She  fails— she  sinks— as  dies  the  lamp 
In  charnel  airs  or  cavern  damp, 
So  quickly  do  his  baleful  sighs 

nch  all  the  sweel  lighl  of  her  eyes! 
One  struggle,  and  his  pain  is  past  ; 

Eer  lover  is  no  longer  living  ! 
One  kiss  the  maiden  gives,  one  last, 

Long  kiss,  which  she  expires  in  giving! 

"  Sleep,"  said  the  Peri,  as  softly  Bhe  stole 
The  farewell  sigh  of  that  vanishing  soul, 
As  true  as  e'er  warm'd  a  woman's  breast — 
"  Sleep  on  ;   in  visions  of  odor  rest, 
In  balmier  ail  irred 

Th'  enchanted  pile  of  that  lonely  bird, 
"Who  sings  mi  tie'  Last  his  own  death  lay, 
in  mud''  ami  perfume  dies  away  !" 

Thus  saying,  from  her  lip-  she  spread 

irthly  breathings  through  the  place, 
Ami  shook  her  sparkling  wreath,  and  shed 

Such  luster  o'er  each  paly  face. 
That  like  two  lovely  saints  they  seem'd 

Ppon  tin'  eve  of  doomsday  taken 
From  their  dim  graves,  in  odor  sleeping; — 

While  that  benevolenl  Peri  beam'd 
Like  their  good  angel,  calmly  keep  i 

Watch  o'er  thrm,  till  their  soula  would  waken  ! 

Bni  mom  i  -  blushing  in  tie'  %k 
Again  the  Peri  -oar-  above, 
Bearing  to  heaven  that  precious  ■ 

POLS 


386  PERSIAN  FOLK-LOBE. 

Pligh  throbb'd  her  heart,  with  hope  elate, 

The  Elysian  palm  she  soon  shall  win, 
For  the  bright  Spirit  at  the  gate 

Smiled  as  she  gave  that  offering  in ; 
And  she  already  hears  the  trees 

Of  Eden,  with  their  crystal  bells 
Ringing  in  that  ambrosial  breeze 

That  from  the  Throne  of  Alia  swells  ; 
And  she  can  see  the  starry  bowls 

That  lie  around  that  lucid  lake, 
Upon  whose  banks  admitted  souls 

Their  first  sweet  draught  of  glory  take ! 

But  ah  !  ev'n  Peri's  hopes  are  vain  ; 

Again  the  Fates  forbade,  again 

Th'  immortal  barrier  closed.     "  Not  yet," 

The  Angel  said,  as,  with  regret, 

He  shut  from  her  that  glimpse  of  glory  ; 

"  True  was  the  maiden,  and  her  story, 

Written  in  light  o'er  Ada's  head, 

By  seraph  eyes  shall  long  be  read. 

But,  Peri,  see — the  crystal  bar 

Of  Eden  moves  not.     Holier  far 

Than  ev'n  this  sigh  the  boon  must  be 

That  opes  the  Gates  of  Heaven  for  thee." 

Now  upon  Syria's  land  of  roses 
Softly  the  light  of  eve  reposes, 
And  like  a  glory,  the  broad  sun 
Hangs  over  sainted  Lebanon  ; 
Whose  head  in  wintry  grandeur  towers, 

And  whitens  with  eternal  sleet, 
While  summer  in  a  vale  of  flowers 

Is  sleeping  rosy  at  his  feet. 

To  one  who  look'd  from  upper  air 
O'er  all  th'  enchanted  regions  there, 


PJK4DISE  AXD   THE  PERL  387 

How  beauteous  must  have  been  the  glow, 

The  life,  the  Bparkling  from  below  ! 

Fair  gardens,  shining  streams,  with  ranks 

Of  golden  melons  on  their  banks, 

More  golden  where  the  sunlight  falls; — 

Gay  Lizards  glitt'ring  on  the  walls 

Of  ruin'd  shrines,  busy  and  bright 

As  they  were  all  alive  with  light; 

And  yel  more  splendid,  numerous  flocks 

Of  pigeons,  settling  on  the  rocks, 

With  their  rich,  restless  wings  that  gleam 

Variously  in  the  crimson  beam 

Of  the  warm  West, — as  if  iidaid 

With  brilliants  from  the  mine,  or  made 

Of  tearless  rainbows,  such  as  span 

TIT  unclouded  skies  of  Peristan. 

And  then  the  mingling  sounds  thai  come 

Of  shepherd's  ancienl  reed,  with  hum 

Of  the  wild  bees  of  Palestine, 

Banqueting  through  the  flowery  vales; 
And  Jordan,  those  sweel  hanks  of  thine, 

And  woods,  so  full  of  nightingale-:. 

Bui  naught  can  charm  the  luckless  Peri; 

Her  BOul   i-   Bad      her  wings  are  weary  ; 
Joyless  -he  Bees  the  Sun  look  down 
On  that  greal  Temple,  once  his  own, 
Whose  lonelj  columns  stand  Bublime, 

Flinging  their  shadows  from  on  high 
Like  dials,  which  the  wizard  Time 

Had  rais'd  to  count  hie  ages  by  ! 

Vrt  haply  there  may  lie  conceal'd 

the  Sun 

Some  amulet  of  lmiiis,  anii'-alM 
In  up]  ■  !"'l 


388  PERSIAN  FOLK-LOBE. 

With  the  great  name  of  Solomon, 
Which,  spell'd  by  her  illumin'd  eyes, 

May  teach  her  where,  beneath  the  moon, 
*In  earth  or  ocean  lies  the  boon, 

The  charm,  that  can  restore  so  soon 
An  erring  Spirit  to  the  skies. 

Cheer'd  by  this  hope,  she  bends  her  thither ; 

Still  laughs  the  radiant  eye  of  Heaven, 

Nor  have  the  golden  bowers  of  Even 
In  the  rich  West  begun  to  wither  ; 
When,  o'er  the  vale  of  Balbec,  winging 

Slowly,  she  sees  a  child  at  play 
Among  the  rosy  wild  flowers  singing, 

As  rosy  and  as  wild  as  they  ; 
Chasing,  with  eager  hands  and  eyes, 
The  beautiful  blue  damsel-flies, 
That  flutter'd  round  the  jasmine  stems, 
Like  winged  flowers  or  flying  gems  : 
And,  near  the  boy,  who,  tired  with  play, 
Now  nestling  'mid  the  roses  lay, 
She  saw  a  wearied  man  dismount 

From  his  hot  steed,  and  on  the  brink 
Of  a  small  imaret's  rustic  fount 

Impatient  fling  him  down  to  drink. 
Then  swift  his  haggard  brow  he  turn'd 

To  the  fair  child,  who  fearless  sat, 
Though  never  yet  hath  daybeam  burn'd 

Upon  a  brow  more  fierce  than  that — 
Sullenly  fierce — a  mixture  dire, 
Like  thunder-clouds,  of  gloom,  and  fire ; 
In  which  the  Peri's  eye  could  read 
Dark  tales  of  many  a  ruthless  deed  ; 
The  ruin'd  maid — the  shrine  profaned— 
Oaths  broken — and  the  threshold  stain'd 
With  blood  of  guests  ! — there  written,  all, 
Black  as  the  damning  drops  that  fall 


PARADISE  AXE   THE  PERL.  389 

From  the  denouncing  Angel's  pen, 
Ere  Mercy  weeps  them  out  again! 

';       tranquil  now  that  man  of  crime 
(As  if  the  balmy  evening  time 
Soften'd  his  spirit)  look'd  and  lay, 
Watching  the  rosy  infant's  play  : 
Though  still,  whene'er  his  eye  by  chance 
Fell  on  the  boy's,  its  lurid  glance 

Met  that  unclouded,  joyous  gaze, 
As  torches  that  have  burnt  all  night 
Through  some  impure  and  godless  rite, 

Encounter  morning's  glorious  rays. 

Jiut  hark  !   the  vesper  call  to  prayer, 

A-  slow  tiie  orb  of  daylight  sets, 
Is  rising  sweetly  on  the  air, 

From  Syria's  thousand  minarets! 
The  boy  has  started  from  the  bed 

Of  flowers  where  he  had  laid  his  head, 
And  down  upon  the  fragrant  sod 

Kneels,  with  his  forehead  to  the-  south, 
Lisping  th'  eternal  nam"  of  God 

From  purity's  own  cherub  mouth, 
And  looking,  while  his  hands  and  eyes 
Are  lifted  to  the  glowing  -hies 
Like  a  stray  babe  of  Paradise, 
Just  lighted  on  that  flowery  plain, 
And  3eeking  for  Its  borne  again  I 
oh,  'twas  a  -i'.dit     that  lw.-i  it  child- 

ne  which  mighl  have  well  beguiled 
•(  haughty  Eblia  of  a  Bigh 
lories  lost  and  )  "a".-  gone  by! 

And  how  felt  he,  tip-  wretched  man 
Reclining  there— while  memorj  ran 
( >'er  many  a  year  of  guilt  and  Btrife, 

Flew  o'er  the  dark  Hood  of  his  lifi , 


390  PERSIAN  FOLK-LORE. 

Nor  found  one  sunny  resting  place, 

Nor  brought  him  back  one  branch  of  grace? 

"  There  was  a  time,"  he  said,  in  mild, 

Heart-humbled  tones,  "thou  blessed  child! 

When,  young  and  haply  pure  as  thou, 

I  look'd  and  pray'd  like  thee ;  but  now — " 

He  hung  his  head ;  each  nobler  aim 

And  hope  and  feeling,  which  had  slept 
From  boyhood's  hour,  that  instant  came 

Fresh  o'er  him,  and  he  wept — he  wept ! 

Blest  tears  of  soul-felt  penitence  ! 

In  whose  benign,  redeeming  flow 
Is  felt  the  first,  the  only  sense 

Of  guiltless  joy  that  guilt  "can  know. 
"  There's  a  drop,"  said  the  Peri,  "  that  down  from  the  moon 
Falls  through  the  withering  airs  of  June 
Upon  Egypt's  land,  of  so  healing  a  power, 
So  balmy  a  virtue,  that  ev'n  in  the  hour 
That  drop  descends,  contagion  dies, 
And  health  reanimates  earth  and  skies  ! 
Oh  !  is  it  not  thus,  thou  man  of  sin, 

The  precious  tears  of  repentance  fall  ? 
Though  foul  thy  fiery  plagues  within, 

One  heavenly  drop  hath  dispell'd  them  all ! " 

And  now — behold  him  kneeling  there 
By  the  child's  side,  in  humble  prayer, 
While  the  same  sunbeam  shines  upon 
The  guilty  and  the  guiltless  one, 
And  hymns  of  joy  proclaim  through  heaven 
The  triumph  of  a  soul  forgiven  ! 

'Twas  when  the  golden  orb  had  set, 
Wrhile  on  their  knees  they  linger'd  yet, 
There  fell  a  light,  more  lovely  far 
Than  ever  came  from  sun  or  star, 


SOHBAB  .i.YD  EUSTUM.  391 

Upon  the  tear  that,  warm  and  meek, 
Dew'd  that  repentant  sinner's  cheek  : 
To  mortal  eve  this  light  might  seem 
A  northern  flash  or  meteor  beam  ; 
But  well  tlf  enraptured  Peri  knew 
'Twas  a  brighl  smile  the  Angel  threw 
From  heaven's  gate,  to  hail  that  tear 
Her  harbinger  of  glory  near! 

"Joy,  joy  forever  !  my  task  is  done— 
Ttie  Gates  are  pass'd,  and  Heaven  is  won  ! 
Oh!  am  I  not  happy  ?     I  am,  I  am. — 

To  thee,  sweei  Eden  !  how  dark  and  sad 
Are  the  diamond  turrets  of  Shadukiam, 

And  the  fragrant  bowers  of  Amberabad  ! 
Farewell,  ye  odors  of  earth,  that  die, 
Passing  away  like  a  lover's  sigh  ! 
My  feasl  is  now  of  the  Tooba  Tree, 
Whose  scent  is  the  breath  of  Eternity! 

"Farewell,  ye  vanishing  flowers,  that  Bhone 
In  my  fairy  wreath,  bo  bright  and  brief: 
Oh  !  whal  brightest  thai  e'er  have  blown, 

To  the  1-  pringing  by  Ada's  Throne, 

Whose  flowers  have  a  soul  in  every  leaf! 
Joy,  joy  forever! — my  task  is  done — 
The  Gates  ar<   pass'd,  and  Heav'n  is  won  !" 


SOHRAB  AND   RUSTUM. 
S/idh-ndn 

I'.V  »LD. 

.\  si,  |,'i  P      ian  front  advanced, 

And  Sohrab  arm'd  in  Hainan's  tent,  and  came. 
And  as  afield  the  reapei  wath 


392  PERSIAN  FOLK-LORE. 

Down  through  the  middle  of  a  rich  man's  corn, 
And  on  each  side  arc  squares  of  standing  corn, 
And  in  the  midst  a  stubble,  short  and  bare — 
So  On  each  side  were  squares  of  men,  with  spears 
Bristling,  and  in  the  midst,  the  open  sand. 
And  Rustum  came  upon  the  sand,  and  cast 
His  eyes  toward  the  Tartar  tents,  and  saw 
Sohrab  come  forth,  and  eyed  him  as  he  came. 

As  some  rich  woman,  on  a  winter's  morn, 
Eyes  through  her  silken  curtains  the  poor  drudge 
Who  with  numb  blacken'd  fingers  makes  her  fire — 
At  cock-crow,  on  a  starlit  winter's  morn, 
When  the  frost  flowers  the  whiten'd  window-panes — 
And  wonders  how  she  lives,  and  what  the  thoughts 
Of  that  poor  drudge  may  be;  so  Rustum  eyed 
The  unknown  adventurous  youth,  who  from  afar 
Came  seeking  Rustum,  and  defying  forth 
All  the  most  valiant  chiefs ;  long  he  perused 
His  spirited  air,  and  wonder'd  who  he  was. 
For  very  young  he  seem'd,  tenderly  rear'd  ; 
Like  some  young  cypress,  tall,  and  dark,  and  straight, 
Which  in  a  queen's  secluded  garden  throws 
Its  slight  dark  shadow  on  the  moonlit  turf, 
By  midnight,  to  a  bubbling  fountain's  sound — 
So  slender  Sohrab  seem'd,  so  softly  rear'd. 
And  a  deep  pity  enter'd  Rustum's  soul 
As  he  beheld  him  coming ;  and  he  stood, 
And  beckon'd  to  him  with  his  hand,  and  said  : 

"  0  thou  young  man,  the  air  of  heaven  is  soft, 
And  warm,  and  pleasant ;  but  the  grave  is  cold ! 
Heaven's  air  is  better  than  the  cold  dead  grave. 
Behold  me !     I  am  vast,  and  clad  in  iron, 
And  tried ;  and  I  have  stood  on  many  a  field 
Of  blood,  and  I  have  fought  with  many  a  foe — 
Never  was  that  field  lost,  or  that  foe  saved. 
0  Sohrab,  wherefore  wilt  thou  rush  on  death  ? 


SOHRAB  AjYD   RUSTUM.  393 

Be  govern'd  !     Quit  the  Tartar  host,  and  come 
To  Iran,  and  be  as  my  son  to  me, 
And  fight  beneath  my  banner  till  I  die! 
There  are  no  youths  in  Iran  brave  as  thou." 

So  he  spake,  mildly.     Sohrab  heard  his  voice, 
The  mighty  voice  of  Rustum,  and  he  saw 
His  giant  figure  planted  on  the  sand, 
Sole,  like  some  single  tower,  which  a  chief 
Hath  builded  on  the  waste  in  former  years 
Against  the  robbers  ;  and  he  saw  that  head, 
Streak'd  with  its  first  gray  hairs; — hope  fill'd  his  soul, 
And  he  ran  forward  and  embraced  his  knees, 
And  clasp'd  his  hand  within  his  own,  and  said  : 

"Oh,  by  thy  father's  head  !   by  thine  own  sold  ! 
Art  thou  not  Rustum?  sneak  !  art  thou  not  he?" 
But  Rustum  eyed  askance  the  kneeling  youth, 
And  tiirnM  away,  and  spake  to  his  own  soul  : 

\h  me,  1  muse  what  this  young  fox  may  mean! 
e,  wily,  boastful,  are  these  Tartar  boys. 
For  if  1  now  confess  this  thing  he  asks, 
And  hide  it  not,  hut  say,  '  Rustum  is  here  ! ' 
He  will  not  yield  indeed,  nor  quit  our  I'. 
Bui  he  will  find  some  pretext  not  to  fight, 
And  praise  my  fame,  and  proffer  courteous  gifts— 
A  belt  or  sword,  perhaps— and  go  bis  way  ; 
And  on  a  teasl  tide,  in  Airasiab's  hall, 
In  Samarcand,  he  will  arise  and  cry  : 
1  I  challenged  once,  when  the  two  armies  eamp'd 
Bi  ride  the  Oxus,  all  the  Persian  lords 
To  cope  with  me  in  single  fight  ;  bul  they 
Shrank,  only  Rustum  dared  ;  then  he  and  I 
Changed  gifts,  and  wi  qua!  terms  away.' 

So  will  he  speak,  perhaps,  while  men  applaud  ; 
Then  were  the  chief-  of  Iran  shamed  through  me." 

And  then  he  turn'd,  and  .-n  ml)  -pake  aloud  ■ 
■■  Rise  !  wherefore  dost  thou  vainly  question  thua 


394  PERSIAN  FOLK-LORE. 

Of  Rustum  ?     I  am  here,  whom  thou  hast  eall'd 
By  challenge  forth  ;  make  good  thy  vaunt,  or  yield  ! 
Is  it  with  Rustum  only  thou  wouldst  fight  ? 
Rash" boy,  men  look  on  Rustum's  face  and  flee  ! 
For  well  I  know,  that  did  great  Rustum  stand 
Before  thy  face  this  day,  and  were  reveal'd, 
There  would  be  then  no  talk  of  fighting  more. 
But  being  what  I  am,  I  tell  thee  this — 
Do  thou  record  it  in  thine  inmost  soul : 
Either  thou  shalt  renounce  thy  vaunt,  and  yield, 
Or  else  thy  bones  shall  strew  this  sand,  till  winds 
Bleach  them,  or  Oxus  with  his  summer  floods, 
Oxus  in  summer  wash  them  all  away." 

He  spoke  ;  and  Sohrab  answer'd,  on  his  feet : 
"Art  thou  so  fierce?     Thou  wilt  not  fright  me  so ! 
I  am  no  girl,  to  be  made  pale  by  words. 
Yet  this  thou  hast  said  well,  did  Rustum  stand 
Here  on  this  field,  there  were  no  fighting  then. 
But  Rustum  is  far  hence,  and  we  stand  here. 
Begin !  thou  art  more  vast,  more  dread  than  I, 
And  thou  art  proved,  I  know,  and  I  am  young — 
But  yet  success  sways  with  the  breath  of  heaven. 
And  though  thou  thinkest  that  thou  knowest  sure 
Thy  victory,  yet  thou  canst  not  surely  know. 
For  we  are  all,  like  swimmers  in  the  sea, 
Poised  on  the  top  of  a  huge  wave  of  fate, 
Which  hangs  uncertain  to  which  side  to  fall. 
And  whether  it  will  heave  us  up  to  land, 
Or  whether  it  will  roll  us  out  to  sea, 
Back  out  to  sea,  to  the  deep  waves  of  death, 
We  know  not,  and  no  search  will  make  us  know ; 
Only  the  event  will  teach  us  in  its  hour." 

He  spoke,  and  Rustum  answer'd  not,  but  hurl'd 
His  spear ;  down  from  the  shoulder,  down  it  came, 
As  on  some  partridge  in  the  corn  a  hawk, 
That  long  has  tower'd  in  the  airy  clouds, 


SOHh'.lli  .;,YI)    RDSTUM.  395 

Drops  like  a  plummet;  Sohrafa  saw  it  come, 
And  sprang  aside,  quick  as  a  flash  ;  the  spear 
Hiss'd,  and  went  quivering  down  into  the  sand, 
Which  it  sent  flying  wide.     Then  Sohrah  threw 
In  turn,  and  full  struck  Rustum's  shield;  sharp  rang, 
The  iron  plates  rang  sharp,  but  turn'd  the  spear. 
And  Rustum  seized  his  club,  which  none  but  he 
Could  wield;  an  unlopp'd  trunk  it  was,  and  huge, 
Still  rough— like  those  which  men  in  treeless  plains 
To  build  them  boats  fish  from  the  flooded  rivers. 
Hyphasis  or  Hydaspes,  when,  high  up 
By  their  dark  springs,  the  wind  in  winter  time 
Hath  made  in  Himalayan  forests  wrack, 
And  strewn  the  channels  with  torn  boughs — so  huge 
The  club  which  Rustum  lifted  now,  and  struck 
One  stroke;  but  again  Sohrab  sprang  aside, 
Lithe  as  the  glancing  snake,  and  the  club  came 
Thundering  to  earth,  and  leapt  from  Rustum's  hand. 
And  Rustum  follow'd  his  own  blow,  and  fell 
To  his  knees,  and  with  Ins  lingers  clutch'd  the  sand  ; 
And  now  might  Sohrab  have  unsheathed  his  sword, 
And  pierced  the  mighty  Rustum  while  lie  lay 
Dizzy,  and  on  his  knees,  and  choked  with  sand  ; 
But  he  look'd  on.  and  smiled,  nor  bared  his  sword, 
I'.ut  courteously  drew  back,  and  spoke,  and  said  : 

••  Thou  Btrik'sl  too  hard  !  that  club  of  thine  will  float 
Upon  tie-  summer  Hood-,  and  not.  my  bones. 
But  rise,  and  be  nol  wroth  !  not  wroth  am  I  ; 
No,  when  I  aee  the,  wrath  forsakes  my  soul. 
Thou  say-t.  thou  art  nol   Rustum  ;  he  i1 
Who  art  thou  then,  thai  cansi  30  touch  my  soul  ? 
B03       !  am,  I  have  Been  battle  1  too 
Have  waded  foremosl  in  their  bloody  wa 
And  heard  their  hollow  roar  of  dying  mm  ; 
I'.ut  never  was  my  hearl  thus  touch'd  before. 
Are  they  from  Heaven,  these  softenings  of  the  hearl  ? 


396  PERSIAN  FOLK-LORE. 

0  thou  old  warrior,  let  us  yield  to  Heaven ! 

Come,  plant  we  here  in  earth  our  angry  spears, 

And  make  a  truce,  and  sit  upon  this  sand, 

And* pledge  each  other  in  red  wine,  like  friends, 

And  thou  shalt  talk  to  me  of  Rustum's  deeds. 

There  are  enough  foes  in  the  Persian  host, 

Whom  I  may  meet,  and  strike,  and  feel  no  pang  ; 

Champions  enough  Afrasiab  has,  whom  thou 

Mayst  fight ;  fight  them,  when  they  confront  thy  spear! 

But  oh,  let  there  be  peace  'twist  thee  and  me  ! " 

He  ceased,  but  while  he  spake,  Rustum  had  risen, 
And  stood  erect,  trembling  with  rage  ;  his  club 
He  left  to  lie,  but  had  regain'd  his  spear, 
Whose  fiery  point  now  in  his  mail'd  right  hand 
Blazed  bright  and  baleful,  like  that  autumn  star, 
The  baleful  sign  of  fevers  ;  dust  had  soil'd 
His  stately  crest,  and  dimm'd  his  glittering  arms. 
His  breast  heaved,  his  lips  foam'd,  and  twice  his  voice 
Was  choked  with  rage  ;  at  last  these  words  broke  way  : 

"Girl  !  nimble  with  thy  feet,  not  with  thy  hands  ! 
Curl'd  miuiou,  dancer,  coiner  of  sweet  words  ! 
Fight — let  me  hear  thy  hateful  voice  no  more  ! 
Thou  art  not  in  Afrasiab's  gardens  now 
With  Tartar  girls,  with  whom  thou'rt  wont  to  dance  ; 
But  on  the  Oxus  sands,  and  in  the  dance 
Of  battle,  and  with  me,  who  make  no  play 
Of  war  ;  I  fight  it  out,  and  hand  to  hand. 
Speak  not  to  me  of  truce,  and  pledge,  and  wine  ! 
Remember  all  thy  valor  ;  try  thy  feints 
And  cunning !  all  the  pity  I  had  is  gone ; 
Because  thou  hast  shamed  me  before  both  the  hosts 
With  thy  light  skipping  tricks  and  thy  girl's  wiles." 

He  spoke,  and  Sohrab  kindled  at  his  taunts, 
And  he  too  drew  his  sword  ;  at  once  they  rush'd 
Together,  as  two  eagles  on  one  prey 
Come  rushing  down  together  from  the  clouds, 


SOHRAB  AND  RUSTUM.  397 

One  from  the  east,  one  from  the  west ;  their  shields 

Dash'd  with  a  clang  together,  and  a  din 

Eose,  such  as  thai  >wy  w Icutters 

Make  often  in  the  forest's  heart  at  morn, 

Of  hewing  axes,  crashing  ti  such  blows 

Rustum  and  Sohrab  on  each  other  hail'd. 

And  you  would  say  that  sun  and  stars  took  part 

In  that  unnatural  conflict;  for  a  cloud 

Grew  suddenly  in  heaven,  and  dark'd  the  sun 

Over  the  fighters'  heads  ;  and  a  wind  rose 
Under  their  feet,  and  moaning  swept  the  plain, 

And  in  a  sandy  whirlwind  wrapp'd  the  pair. 

In  gloom  they  twain  were  wrapp'd,  and  they  alone  ; 
Fur  both  the  on-looking  hosts  on  either  hand 
-     od  in  broad  daylight,  and  the  sky  was  pure, 
And  the  sun  sparkled  on  the  Oxus  stream. 
But  in  the  gloom  they  fought,  with  bloodshot  eyes 
And  laboring  breath  ;  first  Rustum  struck  the  shield 
Which  Sohrab  held  Mill'  on:  ;  the  steel-spiked  spear 
Bent  the  tough  plates,  bul  fail'd  to  reach  the  skin, 
And  Rustum  pluck'd  it  back  with  angry  -roan. 
Then  Sohrab  with  his  -word  smote  Rustum's  helm, 
Nor  clove  it-  steel  'i11''''  through  ;  hut  all  the  en 
Be  Bhore  away,  and  that  proud  horsehair  plume, 

:•  till  now  defiled,  sank  to  the  <! 
And  Rustum  bow'd  his  head  ;  hut  then  the  gloom 
Grew  blacker,  thunder  rumbled  in  tie-  air, 
And  lightnings  rent  the  cloud  ;  and  Ruksh,  the  horse, 
Who  Btood  at  hand,  utter'd  a  dreadful  cry; 
V,  horse's  cry  was  that    -mosl  like  the  roar 

..me  pain'd  desert  lion,  who  all  day 
Hath  trail'd  the  hunter's  javelin  in  hi-  side, 
And  comes  at  nighl  to  die  upon  the  -and. 
The  two  hosts  heard  that  cry  and  quaked  for  fear, 
And  1 1  ""■ 

Bui  Sohrab  heard,  and  quail'd  not,  hut  rash'd  on. 


398  PERSIAN  FOLK-LORE. 

And  struck  again ;  and  again  Kustum  bow'd 
His  head ;  but  this  time  all  the  blade,  like  glass, 
Sprang  in  a  thousand  shivers  on  the  helm, 
And  in  the  hand  the  hilt  remain'd  alone. 
Then  Rustum  raised  his  head ;  his  dreadful  eyes 
Glared,  and  he  shook  on  high  his  menacing  spear, 
And  shouted,  "  Rustum  !  " — Sohrab  heard  that  shout, 
And  shrank  amazed :  back  he  recoil'd  one  step, 
And  scann'd  with  blinking  eyes  the  advancing  form ; 
And  then  he  stood  bewilder\l,  and  he  dropp'd 
His  covering  shield,  and  the  spear  pierced  his  side. 
He  reel'd,  and,  staggering  back,  sank  to  the  ground; 
And  then  the  gloom  dispersed,  and  the  wind  fell, 
And  the  bright  sun  broke  forth,  and  melted  all 
The  cloud ;  and  the  two  armies  saw  the  pair — 
Saw  Rustum  standing,  safe  upon  his  feet, 
And  Sohrab  wounded,  on  the  bloody  sand. 

Then,  with  a  bitter  smile,  Rustum  began  : 
"  Sohrab,  thou  thoughtest  in  thy  mind  to  kill 
A  Persian  lord  this  day,  and  strip  his  corpse, 
And  bear  thy  trophies  to  Afrasiab's  tent ; 
Or  else  that  the  great  Rustum  would  come  down 
Himself  to  fight,  and  that  thy  wiles  would  move 
His  heart  to  take  a  gift,  and  let  thee  go  ; 
And  then  that  all  the  Tartar  host  would  praise 
Thy  courage  or  thy  craft,  and  spread  thy  fame, 
To  glad  thy  father  in  his  weak  old  age. 
Fool,  thou  art  slain,  and  by  an  unknown  man ! 
Dearer  to  the  red  jackals  shalt  thou  be 
Than  to  thy  friends,  and  to  thy  father  old." 

Aud,  with  a  fearless  mien,  Sohrab  replied  : 
"  Unknown  thou  art ;  yet  thy  fierce  vaunt  is  vain. 
Thou  dost  not  slay  me,  proud  and  boastful  man ; 
No!  Rustum  slays  me,  and  this  filial  heart. 
For  were  I  match'd  with  ten  such  men  as  thee, 
And  I  were  that  which  till  to-day  I  was, 


S0I11UB  AND   RUST  CM.  399 

They  should  bo  lying  here,  I  standing  there. 
But  that  beloved  name  unnerved  my  arm — 
That  name,  and  something,  I  confess,  in  thee. 
Which  troubles  all  my  heart,  and  made  my  shield 
Fall;  and  thy  spear  transfix'd  an  unarm'd  foe. 
And  now  thou  boastest,  and  insult'st  my  fate. 
But  hear  thou  this,  tierce  man,  tremble  to  hear: 
The  mighty  Rustum  shall  avenge  my  death  ! 
My  father,  whom  I  seek  through  all  the  world, 
Fie  shall  avenge  my  death,  and  punish  thee!" 

.lien  some  hunter  in  the  spring  hath  found 
A  breeding  eagle  sitting  on  her  i 
CTpon  the  craggy  isle  of  a  hill  lake, 
And  pierced  her  with  an  arrow  as  she  rose. 

And  follow'd  her  to  find   her  where  she  fell 
Far  off; — anon  her  mat.   comes  winging  back 
From  hunting,  and  a  great  way  off  descries 
1 1  is  huddling  young  left  sole;  at  that,  he  checks 
His  pinion,  and  with  short  uneasy  swi 
Circles  above  his  eyry,  with  loud  screams 
Chiding  his  mate  back  to  her  nest  ;  bill 
dying,  with  the  arrow  in  her  side, 
In  some  Ear  stony  gorge  oul  of  his  ken, 
A  heap  of  fluttering  feathi  er  more 

Shall  the  lak(  i  r,  flying  over  it  ; 

Never  the  black  and  dripping  precipices 
Echo  her  Btormy  scream  as  she  sails  by — 

at  poor  bird  flies  home,  nor  knows  his  ' 
So  Rustum  knew  not  his  own  loss,  bul  stood 

his  d\ ing  son  and  knew  him  not. 
But,  with  a  cold  incredulous  vi  aid  : 

"  What   prate  i-  this  of  fathers  and  n 
mightj  Rustum  never  had  a  son." 
And,  with  a  failing  voice,  Sohrab  replied 

"  Ah,  yes,  he  had  !   ami   that   Losl  BOH  am    I. 

Sun 


400  PERSIAN  FOLK-LOBE, 

Reach  Rustum,  where  he  sits,  and  tarries  long, 
Somewhere,  I  know  not  where,  but  far  from  here, 
And  pierce  him  like  a  stab,  and  make  him  leap 
To  arms,  and  cry  for  vengeance  upon  thee. 
Fierce  man,  bethink  thee,  for  an  only  sou  ! 
What  will  that  grief,  what  will  that  vengeance  be  ? 
Oh,  could  I  live  till  I  that  grief  had  seen  ! 
Yet  him  I  pity  not  so  much,  but  her, 
My  mother,  who  in  Ader-baijan  dwells 
With  that  old  king,  her  father,  who  grows  gpay 
With  age,  and  rules  over  the  valiant  Koords. 
Her  most  I  pity,  who  no  more  will  see 
Sohrab  returning  from  the  Tartar  camp, 
With  spoils  and  honor,  when  the  war  is  done. 
But  a  dark  rumor  will  be  bruited  up, 
From  tribe  to  tribe,  until  it  reach  her  ear  ; 
And  then  will  that  defenseless  woman  learn 
That  Sohrab  will  rejoice  her  sight  no  more. 
But  that  in  battle  with  a  nameless  foe, 
By  the  far-distant  Oxus,  he  is  slain." 

He  spoke  ;  and  as  he  ceased,  he  wept  aloud, 
Thinking  of  her  he  left,  and  his  own  death. 
He  spoke;  but  Rustum  listen'd,  plunged  in  thought. 
Nor  did  he  yet  believe  it  was  his  son 
Who  spoke,  although  he  call'd  back  names  he  knew  ; 
For  he  had  had  sure  tidings  that  the  babe, 
Which  was  in  Ader-baijan  born  to  him, 
Had  been  a  puny  girl,  no  boy  at  all — 
So  that  sad  mother  sent  him  word,  for  fear 
Rustum  should  seek  the  boy,  to  train  in  arms. 
And  so  he  deem'd  that  either  Sohrab  took, 
By  a  false  boast,  the  style  of  Rustum's  son  ; 
Or  that  men  gave  it  him,  to  swell  his  fame. 
So  deem'd  he :  yet  he  listen'd,  plunged  in  thought 
And  his  soul  set  to  grief,  as  the  vast  tide 
Of  the  bright  rocking  Ocean  sets  to  shore 


SOHRAB  AND  RUSTUM.  401 

At  the  full  moon;  tears  gather'd  in  his  eyes  ; 
For  he  remember'd  his  own  early  youth, 
And  all  its  bounding  rapture;  as,  at  dawn, 
The  shepherd  from  his  mountain  lodge  descries 
A  far,  bright  city,  smitten  by  the  sun, 
Through  many  rolling  clouds — so  Rustum  saw 
JIh  youth;  saw  Sohrab's  mother,  in  her  bloom; 
And  that  old  king,  her  father,  who  loved  well 
His  wandering  guest,  and  gave  him  his  fair  child 
With  joy;  and  all  the  pleasant  life  they  led, 
They  three,  in  that  long-distant  summer  time — 

castle,  and  the  dewy  woods,  and  hunt 
And  hound,  and  morn  on  those  delightful  hills 
In  Ader-baijan.     And  he  saw  that  youth, 

_••  and  looks  to  be  his  own  dear  son, 
Piteous  and  lovely,  lying  on  the  sand, 
Like  some  rich  hyacinth  which  by  the  scythe 
Of  an  unskillful  gardener  has  been  cut, 
Mowing  the  garden  irrassplots  near  its  bed, 
And  lie-.  ;l  fragrant  tower  of  purple  bloom, 
On  the  mown,  dying  grass — so  Sohrab  lay, 
Lovely  in  death,  upon  the  common  sand. 

Rustum  gazed  on  him  with  grief,  and  said 

"  ')  Sohrab,  thou  indeed  art  such  a  son 
Whom  Rustum,  wert  thou  his,  might  well  have  loved  ! 
Ye\  here  thou  errest,  Sohrab,  or  else  men 
Have  told  thee  fahe—  thou  art  not   Rustum's 
for  Rustum  had  no  son  ;  one  child  he  had 
But  one    a  girl;  who  with  her  mother  uow 
Pliea  Bome  light  female  task,  nor  dreams  of  aa 
Of  us  she  dreams  not.  nor  of  wounds,  nor  war." 

Bui  Sohrab  answer'd  him  in  wrath;  for  now 
The  anguish  of  the  deep-fix'd  spear  grew  fie 
And  he  desired  to  draw  forth  the  steel, 
And  lei  the  blood  flow  free,  and  so  to  die — 
But  fir.-t  he  would  convince  hi   stubborn  foe ; 

POLK-LORl     J6 


402  PERSIAN  FOLKLORE. 

And,  rising  sternly  on  one  arm,  he  said : 

"  Man,  who  art  thou  who  dost  deny  my  words  ? 
Truth  sits  upon  the  lips  of  dying  men, 
Andfcilsehood,  while  I  lived,  was  far  from  mine. 
I  tell  thee,  prick'd  upon  this  arm  I  bear 
That  seal  which  Rustum  to  my  mother  gave, 
That  she  might  prick  it  on  the  babe  she  bore." 

He  spoke  :  and  all  the  blood  left  Rustum's  cheeks, 
And  his  knees  totter'd,  and  he  smote  his  hand 
Against  his  breast,  his  heavy  mailed  hand, 
That  the  hard  iron  corselet  clank'd  aloud  ; 
And  to  his  heart  he  press'd  the  other  hand, 
And  in  a  hollow  voice  he  spake,  and  said  : 

"  Sohrab,  that  were  a  proof  which  could  not  lie ! 
If  thou  show  this,  then  art  thou  Rustum's  son." 

Then,  with  weak  hasty  fingers,  Sohrab  loosed 
His  belt,  and  near  the  shoulder  bared  his  arm, 
And  show'd  a  sign  in  faint  vermilion  points 
Prick'd  ;  as  a  cunning  workman,  in  Pekin, 
Pricks  with  vermilion  some  clear  porcelain  vase, 
An  emperor's  gift — at  early  morn  he  paints, 
And  all  day  long,  and,  when  night  comes,  the  lamp 
Lights  up  his  studious  forehead  and  thin  hands — 
So  delicately  prick'd  the  sign  appeared 
On  Sohrab's  arm,  the  sign  of  Rustum's  seal. 
It  was  that  griffin,  which  of  old  rear'd  Zal, 
Rustum's  great  father,  whom  they  left  to  die, 
A  helpless  babe,  among  the  mountain  rocks ; 
,  Him  that  kind  creature  found,  and  reared  and  loved — 
Then  Rustum  took  it  for  his  glorious  sign. 
And  Sohrab  bared  that  image  on  his  arm, 
And  himself  scann'd  it  long  with  mournful  eyes, 
And  then  he  touch'd  it  with  his  hand,  and  said  : 

"  How  sayst  thou  ?     Is  that  sign  the  proper  sign 
Of  Rustum's  son,  or  of  some  other  man's?" 

He  spoke ;  but  Rustum  gazed,  and  gazed,  and  stood 


SOHRAB  .1X1)  BUSTUM.  403 

Speechless  ;  and  then  he  utter'd  one  sharp  cry  : 

«  o  boy— thy  father!"  and  his  voice  choked  there. 

And  then  a  dark  cloud  pass'd  before  his  eyes, 

And  his  head  swam,  and  he  sank  down  to  earth. 

But  Sohrab  crawl'd  to  where  he  lay,  and  east 

His  arms  about  his  neck,  and  kiss'd  his  lips, 

And  with  fond  faltering  fingers  stroked  his  cheeks, 

Trying  to  call  him  back  to  life  ;  and  life 

Came  back  to  Rustum,  and  he  oped  his  eyes, 

And  they  stood  wide  with  horror;  and  he  seized 

In  both  his  hands  the  dust  which  lay  around, 

And  threw  it  on  his  head,  and  smirch'd  his  hair — 

His  hair,  and  face,  and  beard,  and  glittering  arms : 

And  .strong  convulsive  groanings  shook  his  breast, 

And  his  sobs  choked  him  ;  and  he  clutch'd  his  sword, 

To  draw  it,  and  forever  lei  life  out. 

But  Sohrab  saw  his  thought,  and  held  his  hands, 

And  with  a  soothing  voice  he  .-pake,  mid  said  : 

••  Father,  forbear !  for  I  hut  meet  to-day 
The  doom  which  at  my  birth  was  written  down 
In  heaven,  and  thou  art  Heaven's  unconscious  hand. 
Surely  my  heart  cried  nut  that  it  was  thou, 
When  firsl  I  saw  thee;  and  thy  heart  Bpoke  too, 
I  know  it!  but  fate  trod  those  promptings  down 
CTndi  i  heel ;  fate,  fate  engagi  d 

Tie'  Btrife,  and  hurl'd   me  on  my  father's  spear. 

Bui  I'  I  ak  no  more  of  this  !     I  find 

My  father;  lei  me  feel  thai  I  have  found  ! 
Come,  sil  beside  mo  on  this  -ami,  and  take 

My  head   ;  thy  hand-',  and  kiss  mv  cheeks, 

And  wad.  them  with  thy  tears,  and  Bay:  'Mj  Bon!' 
Quick  !  quick  !  for  number'd  are  my  Bands  of  life, 
And  swift ;  for  like  the  lightning  to  this  field 

in',  and  like  the  wind  I  j.", 
Sudden,  and  BW  ii't,  and  like  a   pai    ing  wind. 

But  it  was  writ  in  heaven  thai  in:    should  be." 


404  PERSIAN  FOLK-LORE. 

So  said  he,  and  his  voice  released  the  heart 
Of  Rustum,  and  his  tears  broke  forth ;  he  cast 
His  arms  round  his  son's  neck,  and  wept  aloud, 
And  kiss'd  him.     And  awe  fell  on  both  the  hosts, 
When  they  saw  Rustum's  grief ;  and  Ruksh,  the  horse, 
With  his  head  bowing  to  the  ground  and  mane 
Sweeping  the  dust,  came  near,  and  in  mute  woe 
First  to  the  one  then  to  the  other  moved 
His  head,  as  if  inquiring  what  their  grief 
Might  mean;  and  from  his  dark,  compassionate  eyes, 
The  big  warm  tears  roll'd  down,  and  caked  the  sand. 
But  Rustum  chid  him  with  stern  voice,  and  said : 

"  Ruksh,  now  thou  grievest ;  but,  0  Ruksh,  thy  feet 
Should  first  have  rotted  on  their  nimble  joints, 
Or  ere  they  brought  thy  master  to  this  field  !  " 

But  Sohrab  look'd  upon  the  horse,  and  said  : 
"  Is  this,  then,  Ruksh  ?     How  often,  in  past  days, 
My  mother  told  me  of  thee,  thou  brave  steed, 
My  terrible  father's  terrible  horse  !  and  said 
That  I  should  one  day  find  thy  lord  and  thee. 
Come,  let  me  lay  my  hand  upon  thy  mane  ! 
0  Ruksh,  thou  art  more  fortunate  than  I ; 
For  thou  hast  gone  where  I  shall  never  go, 
And  snuff'd  the  breezes  of  my  father's  home. 
And  thou  hast  trod  the  sands  of  Seistan, 
And  seen  the  River  of  Helmund,  and  the  Lake 
Of  Zirrah  ;  and  the  aged  Ztil  himself 
Has  often  stroked  thy  neck,  and  given  thee  food, 
Corn  in  a  golden  platter  soak'd  with  wine, 
And  said  :  '  0  Ruksh  !  bear  Rustum  well,' — but  I 
Have  never  known  my  grandsire's  furrow'd  face, 
Nor  seen  his  lofty  house  in  Seistan, 
Nor  slaked  my  thirst  at  the  clear  Helmund  stream ; 
But  lodged  among  my  father's  foes,  and  seen 
Afrasiab's  cities  only,  Samarcand, 
Bokhara,  and  lone  Khiva  in  the  waste, 


SOU  It.  1 1;  ,/.YI)   RUSTUM.  40B 

And  the  black  Toorkmun  tents;  and  only  drunk 
The  desert  rivers,  Moorghab  and  Tejend, 
Kohik,  and  where  the  Kalmuks  feed  their  sheep, 
The  northerD  Sir  :  and  this  great  Oxus  stream, 
The  yellow  Oxus,  by  whose  brink  I  die." 

Then,  with  a  heavy  groan,  Rustum  bewail'd  : 
"Oh,  that  its  waves  were  flowing  over  me  ! 
Oh,  that  1  >aw  its  grains  of  yellow  silt 
Roll  tumbling  in  the  current  o'er  my  head  !  " 

But.  with  a  grave  mild  voice,  Sohrab  replied  : 
"  Desire  not  that,  my  father  !     Thou  must  live. 
For  some  are  born  to  do  great  deeds,  and  live, 
As  some  are  born  to  be  obscured,  and  die. 
Do  thou  the  deeds  I  die  too  young  to  do, 
And  reap  a  second  glory  in  thine  age; 
Thou  art  my  father,  and  thy  gain  is  mine. 
But  come  !  thou  seesl  this  greal  bos!  of  men 
Which  follow  mi';  I  pray  thee,  .-lay  not  these! 
I.     .'in-  entreat  for  them  ;  what  have  they  done ? 
They  follow M  me,  my  hope,  my  fame,  my  Btar. 
Let  them  all  cross  the  ^\\\>  back  in  peace. 
Bui  me  thou  niu.-t  heai-  hence,  not  .-end  with  them, 
Bui  carry  me  with  thee  to  Seistan, 
And  place  me  on  a  bed,  and  mourn  for  me, 
Thou,  and  the  snow-hair'd  Zal,  and  all  thy  friends. 
And  thou  must  lay  me  in  that  lovely  earth, 

And   heap  a  .-lately  mound  above  my   hot 
And  plan!  a   far-seen  pillar  over  all. 

That  so  the  passing  horsemaD  on  the  wa 
May  -ee  my  tomb  a  greal  way  off,  and  vvy  : 
1  Sohrab,  the  mighl     R        tn's  son,  lies  i  here, 
Whom  bis  greal  father  did  h  nee  kill ! ' 

And  I  he  not  forgotten  in  my  grave." 

And,  with  a  mournful  voice,  l.'u-lum  replied  : 

i-  Pear  n<>t  I     A    thou  I  Sohrab,  my  .  on, 

all  it  be ;  for  1  will  hum  my  t. 


406  PERSIAN  FOLK-LOBE. 

And  quit  the  host,  and  bear  thee  hence  with  me, 

And  carry  thee  away  to  Seistan, 

And,  place  thee  on  a  bed,  and  mourn  for  thee, 

With  the  snow-headed  Zal,  and  all  my  friends. 

And  I  will  lay  thee  in  that  lovely  earth, 

And  heap  a  stately  mound  above  thy  bones, 

And  plant  a  far-seen  pillar  over  all, 

And  men  shall  not  forget  thee  in  thy  grave. 

And  I  will  spare  thy  host ;  yea,  let  them  go ! 

Let  them  all  cross  the  Oxus  back  in  peace  ! 

What  should  I  do  with  slaying  any  more  ? 

For  would  that  all  that  I  have  ever  slain 

Might  be  once  more  alive ;  my  bitterest  foes, 

And  they  who  were  call'd  champions  in  their  time, 

And  through  whose  death  I  won  that  fame  I  have — 

And  I  were  nothing  but  a  common  man, 

A  poor,  mean  soldier,  and  without  renown, 

So  thou  mightest  live  too,  my  son,  my  son ! 

Or  rather  would  that  I,  even  I  myself, 

Might  now  be  lying  on  this  bloody  sand, 

Near  death,  and  by  an  ignorant  stroke  of  thine, 

Not  thou  of  mine  !  and  I  might  die,  not  thou  ; 

And  I,  not  thou,  be  borne  to  Seistan ; 

And  Zal  might  weep  above  my  grave,  not  thine, 

And  say :  '  0  son,  I  weep  thee  not  too  sore, 

For  willingly,  I  know,  thou  met'st  thine  end  ! ' 

But  now  in  blood  and  battles  was  my  youth, 

And  full  of  blood  and  battles  is  my  age, 

And  I  shall  never  end  this  life  of  blood." 

Then,  at  the  point  of  death,  Sohrab  replied : 
"  A  life  of  blood  indeed,  thou  dreadful  man  ! 
But  thou  shalt  yet  have  peace ;  only  not  now, 
Not  yet !  but  thou  shalt  have  it  on  that  day 
When  thou  shalt  sail  in  a  high-masted  ship, 
Thou  and  the  other  peers  of  Kai  Khosroo, 
Returning  home  over  the  salt  blue  sea, 


SOHRAB  AND  RUSTUM.  407 

From  laying  thy  dear  master  in  his  grave." 

And  Rustum  gazed  in  Sohrab's  face,  and  said: 
"Soon  be  that  day,  my  son,  and  deep  that  sea! 
Till  then,  if  fate  so  wills,  let  me  endure." 

He  spoke;  and  Sohrab  smiled  on  him,  and  took 
The  spear,  and  drew  it  from  his  side,  and  eased 
His  wound's  imperious  anguish;  but  the  blood 
Came  welling  from  the  open  gash,  and  life 
Flow'd  with  the  stream  ;— all  down  his  cold  white  side 
The  crimson  torrent  ran,  dim  now  and  soil'd, 
Like  the  soil'd  tissue  of  white  violets 
Left,  freshly  gather'd,  on  their  native  bank, 
By  children  whom  their  nurses  call  with  haste 
Indoors  from  the  sun's  eye;  his  head  droop'd  low, 
His  limbs  grew  slack;  motionless,  white,  he  lay — 
White,  with  eyes  closed  ;  only  when  heavy  gasps, 
Deep,  heavy  gasps  quivering  through  all  his  frame, 
Convulsed  him  hack  to  life,  he  open'd  them, 
And  fix'd  them  feebly  on  his  father's  face; 
Till  now  all  strength  was  ebb'd,  and  from  his  limbs 
Unwillingly  the  spirit  tied  away, 

I;   rretting  the  warm  mansion  which  it  left, 
And  youth,  and  bloom,  and  this  delightful  world. 
So,  on  the  bloody  sand.  Sohrab  lav  dead  ; 

And  the  great  Rustum  drew  his  horseman's  cloak 

Down  o'er  hi-  face,  and  sate  by  his  dead  son. 

A-  those  black  granite  pillars,  once  high-rear'd 

By  Jemshid  in  Persepolis,  to  bear 

His  lions.',  now  'mid  their  broken  fli  teps 

Lie  prone,  enormous,  down  the  mountain  side — 

So  in  tie'  sand  la)  Rustum  by  his  aon. 

And  nighl  came  down  over  the  Bolemn  wa  te; 

And  the  two  gazing  hosts,  and  thai  Bole  pair, 

And  darken'd  all;  and  a  eold  fog,  with  night, 

<      ;,t  from  the  ( >xus.     Soon  a  hum  aro 

A    of  a  -  mblj  loosed,  and  fires 


408  PERSIAN  FOLK-LORE. 

Began  to  twinkle  through  the  fog  ;  for  now 
Both  armies  moved  to  camp,  and  took  their  meal ; 
The  Persians  took  it  on  the  open  sands 
South wafd,  the  Tartars  by  the  river  marge ; 
And  Eustum  and  his  son  were  left  alone. 


RUBAIYAT. 

BY   OMAR   KHAYYAM. 
(TRANSLATED   BY   EDWARD   FITZGERALD.) 

I. 

Wake  !    For  the  Sun  who  scatter'd  into  flight 
The  Stars  before  him  from  the  Field  of  Night, 

Drives  Night  along  with  them  from  Heav'n,  and  strikes 
The  Sultan's  Turret  with  a  Shaft  of  Light. 

II. 
Before  the  phantom  of  False  morning  died, 
Methought  a  Voice  within  the  Tavern  cried, 
"  When  all  the  Temple  is  prepared  within, 
Why  nods  the  drowsy  Worshiper  outside  ?  " 

in. 

And,  as  the  Cock  crew,  those  who  stood  before 
The  Tavern  shouted  :  "  Open  then  the  door ! 
You  know  how  little  while  we  have  to  stay, 
And,  once  departed,  may  return  no  more." 


Iram1  indeed  is  gone  with  all  his  Rose, 

And  Jamshyd's  Sev'n-ring'd  Cup  where  no  one  knows ; 

1  An  ancient  palace  of  King  Shaddad,  now  buried  in  the  sands. 


rubJjtJt.  409 

But  still  a  Ruby  kindles  in  the  Vine, 
And  many  a  Garden  by  the  Water  blows. 

\  in. 

Whether  a1  Naish&pur  or  Babylon, 
Whether  the  Cup  with  sweet  or  bitter  run, 

The  Wine  of  Life  keeps  oozing  drop  by  drop, 
The  Lea\e~  of  Life  keep  falling  one  by  erne. 

i\. 
Each  Morn  a  thousand  Roses  brings,  you  say  ; 
Yes,  Imt  where  leaves  the  Hose  tit'  Yesterday? 

And  this  (irst  Summer  month  that  brings  the  Rose 
Shall  take  Jamshyd  and  Kaikob&d  away. 

\. 
Well,  let  it  take  them  !      What   have  we  to  do 

With  Kaikobad  the  Great,  or  Kaikhosru1? 
Lei  Zal  and  Rustum  bluster  as  tiny  will, 

Or  Hatiin  call  to  supper — heed  qoI  you. 

XI. 

With  me  along  the  strip  of  Eerl  i  svn 

That  jusl  divides  the  deserl  from  the  Bown, 
Where  name  of  Slave  and  Sultan  is  forgol 
And  Peace  to  M&hmud  on  his  golden  Throne! 

\i  i. 
A  Book  of  Verses  underneath  the  Bough, 
A  Jug  of  Wine,  a  Loaf  of  Bread     and  Thou 

I '.    ide  me  singing  in  t  he  Wilderne 
Oh,  Wilderne--  were  Paradise  enow  ! 

J  VI. 

The  Worldly  Hope  men  -.  t  their  Hearts  upon 
Turn-  Ashes     or  ii  prospers ;  and  anon, 


'  Kaiki     . 


41 0  PERSIAN  FOLK-LORE. 

Like  Snow  upon  the  Desert's  dusty  Face, 
Lighting  a  little  hour  or  two — was  gone. 

XVII. 

Think,  in  this  batter'd  Caravanserai ' 
Whose  Portals  are  alternate  Night  and  Day, 

How  Sultan  after  Sultan  with  his  Pomp 
Abode  his  destin'd  Hour,  and  went  his  way. 

XVIII. 

They  say  the  Lion  and  the  Lizard  keep 

The  Courts  where  Jamshyd  gloried  and  drank  deep  : 

And  Bahrain,  that  great  Hunter — the  Wild  Ass 
Stamps  o'er  his  Head,  but  can  not  break  his  Sleep. 

xx. 

And  this  reviving  Herb  whose  tender  Green 
Fledges  the  River-Lip  on  which  we  lean — 
Ah,  lean  upon  it  lightly  !  for  who.  knows 
From  what  once  lovely  Lip  it  springs  unseen  ! 

XXI. 

Ah,  my  Beloved,  fill  the  cup  that  clears 
To-day  of  past  Regret  and  future  Fears  : 

To-morrow  ! — Why,  To-morrow  I  may  be 
Myself  with  Yesterday's  Sev'n  thousand  Years. 

XXII. 

For  some  we  loved,  the  loveliest  and  the  best 
That  from  his  Vintage  rolling  Time  hath  prest, 
Have  drunk  their  Cup  a  Round  or  two  before, 
And  one  by  one  crept  silently  to  rest. 

*  According  to  au  old  popular  legend  of  the  Orient,  this  was  the  appeal  ad- 
dressed  to  the  Shah  by  a  dervish  who  had  daringly  lain  down  to  rest  in  the 
hall  of  the  Palace,  and  who  in  self-defense  maintained  that  the  building  was, 
after  all,  only  a  caravansary  for  transient  guests. 


RUB  Jl  TAT.  411 

XXIII. 

And  we,  thai  now  make  merry  in  the  Room 
They  left,  and  Summer  dresses  in  new  bloom, 

Ourselves  must  we  beneath  the  Couch  of  Earth 
Descend — ourselves  to  make  a  Couch — for  whom? 


XX  VII. 

If  when  young  did  eagerly  frequent 
Doctor  and  Saint,  and  heard  great  argument 

About  it  and  about :  but  evermore 
Came  out  by  the  same  door  where  in  1  went. 

XXVIII. 

With  them  the  seed  of  Wisdom  did  I  sow, 
A.nd  with  mine  own  hand  wrdughl  to  make  it  grow; 
And  this  was  all  the  Harvesl  thai  I  reap'd — 

"I  came  like  Water,  and  like  Wind  J  go." 


XXXI. 

Up  from  Earth's  Center  through  the  Seventh  Gate 
I  rose,  and  on  the  Throne  of  Saturn  sate, 

And  many  a  Knot  unravel'd  by  the  Road; 
Bui  not  the  Master-knoi  of  II  nman  ! 

XXXII. 

There  waa  the  Door  to  which  1  found  no  Key; 
There  was  the  Veil  through  winch  I  mighl  not  <rr 

Some  little  talk  awhile  of  M  i  and  Til 
There  was — and  then  no  more  of  Thee  and  Me. 

hi. 
Earth  could  no1  ai  ;  i  thai  mourn 

In  flowing  Purple,  of  their  Lord  forlorn  ; 

Nor  rolling  Hi  avi  d,  with  all  his  ■    ■  al'd 

Anil  hidden  by  tin  hi  and  Morn. 


412  PERSIAN  FOLK-LORE. 

XXXIV. 

Then  of  the  Thee  in  Me  who  works  behind 
The  Veil,  I  lifted  up  my  hands  to  find 

A  Lamp  amid  the  Darkness ;  and  I  heard, 
As  from  Without — "  The  Me  within  Thee  blind  !  " 

xxxv. 
Then  to  the  Lip  of  this  poor  earthen  Urn 
I  lean'd,  the  Secret  of  my  Life  to  learn  : 

And  Lip  to  Lip  it  murmur'd  :  "  While  you  live, 
Drink! — for,  once  dead,  you  never  shall  return." 

xxxvi. 
I  think  the  Vessel,  that  with  fugitive 
Articulation  answer'd,  once  did  live, 

And  drink ;  and  Ah  !  the  passive  Lip  I  kiss'd, 
How  many  Kisses  might  it  take — and  give ! 

xxxvu. 
For  I  remember  stopping  by  the  way 
To  watch  a  Potter  thumping  his  wet  Clay : 

And  with  its  all-obliterated  Tongue 
It  murmur'd,  "  Gently,  Brother,  gently,  pray  ! " 1 

XXXVIII. 

And  has  not  such  a  Story  from  of  Old 
Down  Man's  successive  generations  roll'd 

Of  such  a  cloud  of  saturated  Earth 
Cast  by  the  Maker  into  Human  mould  ? 


XLII. 

And  if  the  Wine  you  drink,  the  Lip  you  press, 
End  in  what  All  begins  and  ends  in — Yes ; 

1  The  folk-lore  of  various  lands  has  to  do  with  speaking  pots.     In  our  own 
language  we  have  the  adage,  "  The  pot  must  not  call  the  kettle  hlack." 


RUB  AIT  AT.  413 

Think  then  you  are  To-day  what  Yf.steuday 
You  were — To-iionuow  you  shall  uot  be  less. 

xliii. 
So  when  the  Angel  of  the  darker  Drink 
At  last  shall  find  you  by  the  fiver  brink, 

And,  offering  his  Cup,  invite  your  Soul 
Forth  to  your  Lips  to  (juall — you  shall  not  shrink. 

XI.IV. 

Why,  if  the  Soul  can  fling  the  Dust  aside, 
And  naked  on  the  Air  of  Heaven  ride, 

Were'1  aol  a  Shame — were'1  not  a  Shame  for  him 
in  this  clay  carcass  crippled  to  abide'.-' 

M.V. 

'Tis  but  a  Tent  where  takes  his  one-day's 
A  Sultan  to  the  realm  of  Death  addi 

The  Sultan  rises,  and  the  dark  Ferrash 
Strikes,  and  prepares  ii  for  another  Gui 

Nl.YI. 

And  fear  not  [esl  Existence  closing  your 

Account,  and  mine,  should  know  the  like  no  more; 

The  Eternal  Saki  from  that  Bowl  has  pour'd 
Millions  of  Bubbles  like  us,  and  will  pour. 

\  i.\  i  i. 
When  You  and  1  behind  the  Veil  are  (, 
Oh,  hut  the  long,  long  while  the  \\  orld  .d.all  ; 
Which  of  our  ( loming  and  Departure  1  i 
hould  heed  a  pebble-ci 


LVIII. 

And  lately,  by  the  Tavern  Door  agape, 

Came  Bhining  through  the  Dusk  an  Angel  Shape 


414  PERSIAN  FOLK-LORE. 

Bearing  a  Vessel  on  his  Shoulder ;  and 
He  bid  me  taste  of  it;  and  't  was — the  Grape  ! 

LIX. 

The  Grape  that  can  with  Logic  absolute 
The  Two-and-Seventy  jarring  Sects  confute : 

The  sovereign  Alchemist  that  in  a  trice 
Life's  leaden  metal  into  Gold  transmute : 1 


LXVI. 

I  sent  my  Soul  through  the  Invisible, 
Some  letter  of  that  After-life  to  spell : 

And  by  and  by  my  Soul  return 'd  to  me, 
And  answer'd,  "  I  Myself  am  Heav'n  and  Hell. 

LXVII. 

Heav'n  but  the  Vision  of  fulflll'd  Desire, 
And  Hell  the  Shadow  from  a  Soul  on  fire, 

Cast  on  the  Darkness  into  which  Ourselves, 
So  late  emerg'd  from,  shall  so  soon  expire. 

LXVIII. 

We  are  no  other  than  a  moving  row 

Of  Magic  Shadow-shapes  that  come  and  go 

Bound  with  the  Sun-illumin'd  Lantern  held 
In  Midnight  by  the  Master  of  the  Show. 

LXXI. 

The  Moving  Finger  writes;  and,  having  writ, 
Moves  on  :  nor  all  your  Piety  nor  Wit 

Shall  Inre  it  back  to  cancel  half  a  Line, 
Nor  all  your  Tears  wash  out  a  Word  of  it. 


1  The  transmutation  of  metals,  whether  by  magic  or  by  alchemy,  occurs  ii 
the  old  legends  of  many  countries. 


EUBAIYAT.  4IS 

LXXXII. 

As  under  cover  of  departing  Day 
Slunk  hunger-stricken  Ramazan1  away. 

Once  more  within  the  Potter's  liop.se  alone 
I  stood,  surrounded  by  the  Shapes  of  Clay. 

I. XXXIII. 

Shapes  of  all  Sorts  and  Sizes,  great  and  small, 
That  stood  along  the  floor  and  by  the  wall  ; 

And  some  loquacious  Vessels  were;  and  some 
Listen'd  perhaps,  but  never  talk'd  at  all. 

LXXXIV. 

Said  one  among  them :  "  Surely  not  in  vain 
My  substance  of  the  common  Earth  was  ta'en 

And  to  this  Figure  moulded,  to  be  broke. 
Or  trampled  back  to  shapeless  Earth  again." 

i. xxxv. 
Then  said  a  Second  :  "  Ne'er  a  peevish  Boy 
Would  break  the  Bowl  from  which  he  drank  in  joy: 

And  He  that  with  his  hand  the  Vessel  made 
Will  surely  uol  in  after  Wrath  destroy." 

lxxxvi. 
After  a  momentary  silence  spake 

of  a  more  ungainly  Make  : 
"  They  Bneer  at  me  for  leaning  all  awry: 
What!  did  the  Hand,  then,  of  the  Potter  Bhake?" 

LXXXVII. 

Whereal  some  one  of  the  loquacious  Lot — 
I  think  a  Sufi  pipkin— waxing  hot — 

Pol  and  Potterl     Tell  me,  then, 
Who  is  the  Potter,  pray,  and  who  the  Pol  '.-''1 


•  The  Mohammedan  Li  at 


416  PERSIAN  FOLK-LORE. 

LXXXVIII. 

"  Why,"  said  another,  "  Some  there  are  who  tell 
Of  one  who  threatens  he  will  toss  to  Hell 

The  luckless  Pots  he  marr'd  in  making. — Pish  ! 
He's  a  Good  Fellow,  and  'twill  all  be  well." 

LXXXIX. 

"  Well,"  murmur'd  one,  "  Let  whoso  make  or  buy, 
My  Clay  with  long  Oblivion  is  gone  dry  : 
But  fill  me  with  the  old  familiar  Juice, 
Methinks  I  might  recover  by  and  by." 

xo. 
So  while  the  Vessels  one  by  one  were  speaking, 
The  little  Moon  look'd  in  that  all  were  seeking : 

And  then  they  jogg'd  each  other,  "  Brother !  Brother ! 
Now  for  the  Porter's  shoulder-knot  a-creaking !  " 

xcin. 
Indeed  the  Idols  I  have  loved  so  long 
Have  done  my  credit  in  this  World  much  wrong : 

Have  drown'd  my  Glory  in  a  shallow  Cup, 
And  sold  my  Reputation  for  a  Song. 

xciv. 

Indeed,  indeed,  Repentance  oft  before 
I  swore — but  was  I  sober  when  I  swore? 

And  then  and  then  came  Spring,  and  Rose-in-hand 
My  threadbare  Penitence  apieces  tore. 

XCVIII. 

Would  but  some  winged  Angel  ere  too  late 
Arrest  the  yet  unfolded  Roll  of  Fate, 

And  make  the  stern  Recorder  otherwise 
Enregister,  or  quite  obliterate  ! 


AjY  ODE  FROM  II.  IF  I Z.  417 

c. 
Yon  rising  Mood  that  looks  for  us  again — 
How  oft  hereafter  will  she  wax  and  wane; 

Eow  oft  hereafter  rising  look  for  us 
Through  this  same  Garden — and  for  one  in  vain! 

ci. 
And  when  like  her,  oh  Saki,  you  shall  pass 
Among  the  Guests  Star-scatter'd  on  the  Grass, 

And  in  your  joyous  errand  reach  the  spot 
Where  I  made  One — turn  down  an  empty  Glass! 

AN    ODE    FROM    HAFIZ. 

TRANSLATED    I  Hum    THE    PERSIAN    BY    HE  EM  AN    BICKNELL. 

Saki,  if  dear  to  thee  the  wine-cup's  How, 
Si     hut  the  cup  of  wine  before  us,  ho  ! 

Part  in  the  tavern  with  that  cowl  of  thine. 
And  e'en  thy  prayer-mat,  for  a  draught  of  wine. 

If  lives  thy  heart,  when  sounds  the  rev'lers'  cry. 
Bear  in  tin-  garden  of  thy  soul,  "  Ya  Ilai  !  " 

( lome  to  the  remedy,  <>  ye  who  mourn  ! 

Learn  both  the  worlds,  compared  with  love,  to  scorn. 

The  secret-  which  iii  hearts  of  lovers  dwell, 
The  rebeck  and  the  plaintive  flute  may  tell. 

One  lover,  poor  yet  pure,  can  well  outvie 
A  thousand  Hatims  of  the  tribe  of  Tai. 

That  idol,  peri-faced,  a    ultan'e  peer, 

('ome-;   and  the  townsfolk  hasten  in  his  rear. 

While  all  casl  glances  at  hi-  handsome  I 
('|H,n  his  modes!  cheeks  some  drops  we  trace. 

How    long  -hall    Hali/, 

Pine  in  yearning  pain  ? 
long  thus  broken 

Shall  D  ••■main  P 


418  PERSIAN  FOLK-LORE. 


WEST-EASTERN    DIVAN. 

BY   JOHANN    WOLFGANG    VON   GOETHE. 

(TRANSLATED   BY    EDGAR    ALFRED   BOVVRING.) 

Who  the  song  would  understand, 
Needs  must  seek  the  song's  own  land  ; 
Who  the  minstrel  understand, 
Needs  must  seek  the  minstrel's  land. 

VI. 
IIIKMET-NAMA.1 

{Booh  of  Proverbs.) 

Call  on  the  present  day  and  night  for  naught 
Save  what  by  yesterday  was  brought. 


The  sea  is  flowing  ever, 
The  land  retains  it  never. 


Be  stirring,  man,  while  yet  the  day  is  clear ; 

The  night,  when  none  can  work,  fast  draweth  near. 


When  the  heavy-laden  sigh, 
Deeming  help  and  hope  gone  by, 
Oft  with  healing  power  is  heard, 
Comfort-fraught,  a  kindly  word. 


How  vast  is  mine  inheritance,  how  glorious  and  sublime  ! 
For  time  mine  own  possession  is — the  land  I  till  is  time ! 


Enweri2  saith — ne'er  lived  a  man  more  true; 
The  deepest  heart,  the  highest  head  he  knew — 


1  The  Persians,  like  the  Spaniards,  are  famous  for  their  sententious  proverbs. 

2  Anwari,  or  Enweri,  a  Persian  lyric  poet  of  the  twelfth  century. 


1 1  'AW  7  -  A'.  ISTERX  DI  VAN.  4 1 9 

"  In  every  place  and  time  thoif  It  find  availing 
Uprightness,  judgment,  kindliness  unfailing." 


Though  the  bards  whom  the  Orient  sun  hath  bless'd 
Are  greater  than  we  who  dwell  in  the  West, 
Yet  in  hatred  oi  those  whom  our  equals  we  find, 
In  this  we're  not  in  the  least  behind. 


Would  we  lei  our  envy  hurst, 
Feed  its  hunger  fully  first ! 

To  keep  our  proper  place, 
We'll  show  our  bristles  more; 

With  hawks  men  all  things 
Except  the  savage  hour. 


By  those  who  themselves  more  bravely  have  fought 
A  hero's  praise  will  be  joyfully  told.1 

The  worth  of  man  can  only  be  taught 

By  those  who  have  suffer'd  both  beat  and  cold. 


"  Wherefore  is  truth  bo  far  from  our  eyes, 
Buried  as  though  in  a  distanl  land?" 

None  al  the  proper  moment  are  wise ! 
<  lould  they  properly  understand, 

Truth  would  appear  in  her  own  Bweet  gi 
Beaute  a  .  •_"  title,  and  close  al  band. 

Win  these  inquiries  make, 
Where  charity  may  flow  ? 

Cast  in  the  flood  thj  cake 
I     eater,  who  will  know  ? 


i../. 


420  PERSIAN  FOLK-LOBE. 

Once  when  I  a  spider  had  kill'd, 

Then  methought,  was't  right  or  wrong  ? 
That  we  both  to  these  times  should  belong 

This  had  God  in  His  goodness  will'd. 


Motley  this  congregation  is,  for,  lo  ! 

At  the  communion  kneel  both  friend  and  foe. 


If  the  country  I'm  to  show, 
Thou  must  on  the  housetop  go. 


A  man  with  households  twain 
Ne'er  finds  attention  meet ; 

A  house  wherein  two  women  reign 
Is  ne'er  kept  clean  and  neat. 


Bless,  thou  dread  Creator, 
Bless  this  humble  fane  ; 

Man  may  build  them  greater — 
More  they'll  not  contain. 


Let  this  house's  glory  rise, 
Handed  to  far  ages  down, 

And  the  son  his  honour  prize, 
As  the  father  his  renown. 


O'er  the  Mediterranean  sea 

Proudly  hath  the  Orient  sprung; 

Who  loves  Hafis  and  knows  him,  he 
Knows  what  Calderon1  hath  sung. 


If  the  ass 2  that  bore  the  Saviour 
Were  to  Mecca  driven,  he 


1  Calderon,  one  of  the  greatest  of  Spanish  poets. 

2  The  ass  that  bore  the  Saviour  on  the  Day  of  Palms  is  believed  by  the  Per- 


1 1  7;n  T-  /:.  I S  TERN  DIJ\LV.  42 1 

Would  not  alter,  but  would  be 
Still  au  ass  in  his  behavior. 


The  flood  of  passion  storms  with  fruitless  strife 
'Gainst  the  unvanquish'd  solid  land. 
It  throws  poetic  pearls  upon  the  strand, 

And  thus  is  gain'd  the  prize  of  Life. 


When  so  many  minstrels  there  are, 

How  it  pains  me,  alas,  to  know  it  ! 
Who  from  the  earth  drives  poetry  far! — 
Who,  but  the  poet? 


V 1 1 1 . 
SULEIKA-NAMA. 
.-  of  Si//'  ika,  or  Zult  ika.) 

< >\<i:,  methought,  in  the  night  hours  cold, 
Thai  I  Baw  I  ii"  moon  in  my  sleep  ; 

Bui  as  soon  ae  I  waken'd,  behold, 
I rnawaree  rose  tin-  sum  from  the  deep. 

That  Suleika'e '  love  w  >ng 

For  -i  !-•    - '  ueed  cause  no  surpri 
lie  wae  young,  youl h  pleaseth  the  ey< 
II-  was  fair,  they  Bay,  beyond  measure  ; 
Fair  was  Bhe,  and  bo  greal  was  their  pleasure. 

Bui  thai  thou,  who  awaitedsl  me  long, 


and  tli.' 

dog  oft! 

■ 

phar,  in  t1  ■ 
lifl  x\xi  x. 
■>  .In--;;:.  th( 


422  PERSIAN  FOLK-LORE. 

Youthful  glances  of  fire  dost  throw  me, 
Soon  wilt  bless. me,  thy  love  now  dost  show  me, 
This  shall  my  joyous  numbers  proclaim, 
Thee  I  forever  Suleika  shall  name. 


HATEM. 


Not  occasion  makes  the  thief  ; 

She's  the  greatest  of  the  whole  ; 
For  Love's  relics,  to  my  grief, 

From  my  aching  heart  she  stole. 

She  hath  given  it  to  thee — 
All  the  joy  my  life  had  known, 

So  that,  in  my  poverty, 

Life  I  seek  from  thee  alone. 

Yet  compassion  greets  me  straight 
In  the  luster  of  thine  eye, 

And  I  bless  my  newborn  fate, 
As  within  thine  arms  I  lie. 


SULEIKA. 


The  sun  appears  !     A  glorious  sight ! 

The  crescent-moon  clings  round  him  now. 
What  could  this  wondrous  pair  unite  ? 

How  to  explain  this  riddle  ?     How  ? 


HATEM. 


May  this  our  joy's  foreboder  prove  ! 

In  it  I  view  myself  and  thee ; 
Thou  callest  me  thy  sun,  my  love — 

Come,  my  sweet  moon,  cling  thou  round  me ! 


1  Hatem,  a  lover  of  Suleika. 


WEST-EASTEEM  DIVAN.  %  423 

Love  for  love,  and  moments  sweet, 

Lips  returning  kiss  for  ku 
Word  for  word,  and  eyes  that  meet; 

Breath  for  breath,  and  bliss  for  Miss. 
Thus  at  eve,  and  thus  the  morrow  ! 

Vet  thou  feelest,  at  my  lay, 
Ever  some  half -hidden  sorrow  ; 
Could  I  Jussuf's  graces  borrow, 

All  thy  beauty  I'd  repay  ! 


11ATKM. 

Oh,  say,  'neath  what  celestial  sign 

day  doth  lie, 
When  ne'er  again  this  heart  of  mine 

Away  will  fly? 
And  '•'••li  though  fled  (what  thought  divine!) 

Would  near  me  lie  ? 
<  >n  fchi  ich,  on  whose  sweet  Bhrine 

M  ,  heart  near  hers  will  lie .' 


HATEM. 


[Iold  me,  locks,  Becurely  caught 

In  the  circle  of  her  fi 
1  >ear  brown  -<n  i  nl  .  1  have  nai 

To  repay  this  act  of  grace, 

Save  a  heart  whose  love  ne'er  di 
Throbbing  with  aye-youthful  glow; 

i       a  raging  Etna 
'Neath  il  •  veil  of  mist  and  snow. 

er  mountain's  Btately  brow 
Thou,  like  mornii  ame  ; 

Once  again  f<        Hat  m  now 
Spring's  Boft  breath  and  summ 


424  §  PERSIAN  FOLK-LORE. 

One  more  bumper  !     Fill  the  glass — 

This  last  cup  I  pledge  to  thee  : 
By  mine  ashes  if  she  pass, 
•    "  Jle  consumed,"  she'll  say,  "  for  me." 


THE    LOVING    ONE   SPEAKS. 

And  wherefore  sends  not 
The  horseman-captain 
His  heralds  hither 
Each  day,  unfailing  ? 
Yet  hath  he  horses, 
He  writeth  well. 

He  writeth  Talik, 
And  Neski  knows  he 
To  write  with  beauty 
On  silken  tablets. 
I'd  deem  him  present, 
Had  I  his  words. 

The  sick  One  will  not, 
Will  not  recover 
From  her  sweet  sorrow ; 
She,  when  she  heareth 
That  her  true  lover 
Grows  well,  falls  sick. 


THE   LOVING    ONE   AGAIN. 

Writes  he  in  Neski, 
Faithfully  speaks  he ; 
Writes  he  in  Talik, 
Joy  to  give,  seeks  he : 
Writes  he  in  either, 
Good  ! — for  he  loves ! 


1 1  T!S  T-  E.  1 S  TEK.  V  DIWLY.  42S 

These  tufted  branches  fair 

Observe,  my  loved  one,  well! 
And  see  the  fruits  they  hear 

In  green  and  prickly  shell ! 

Thev've  hung  rolPd  up,  till  now, 

Unconsciously  and  .-till ; 
A  loosely  waving  hough 

Doth  rock  them  at  its  will. 

Vet,  ripening  from  within, 

The  kernel  brown  swell.-  fast  ; 
It  seeks  the  air  to  win, 

It  seeks  the  sun  at  last 

With  joy  it  hursts  its  thrall, 

The  shell  must  needs  give  way; 
'Tis  thus  my  numbers  fall 

Before  thy  feet,  each  day. 


31    LEI  K  V. 


Wh  \t  is  by  this  Btir  reveal'd  ? 

Doth  tii-  Easl  glad  tidings  bring? 
For  in v  heart's  deep  wounds  are  hcal'd 

By  his  mild  and  cooling  wing. 

He  the  dust  with       ■         »th  meet, 

And  in  gentle  cloudlets  cli 
To  the  vineleaf's  safe  n  I 

Drives  the  insects'  happy  race, 

Cools  these  burnin  of  mine. 

Checks  the  sun's  fierce  glow  amain, 

Kissi  -.  ati  he  flii   ,  the  vine, 
Flaunting  over  hill  and  plain. 

And  his  '•■■  hi  '  I  convey 

Thousand  greetings  from  my  f 


426  PERSIAN  FOLK-LORE. 

Ere  these  hills  own  night's  dark  sway, 
Kisses  greet  me,  without  end. 

Thus  canst  thou  still  onward  go, 
Serving  friend  and  mourner  too! 

There,  where  lofty  ramparts  glow, 
Soon  the  loved  one  shall  I  view. 

Ah  !   what  makes  the  heart's  truth  known- 
Love's  sweet  breath — a  newborn  life — 

Learn  I  from  his  mouth  alone, 
In  his  breath  alone  is  rife! 


THE   SUBLIME   TYPE. 

The  sun,  whom  Grecians  Helios  call, 
His  heavenly  path  with  pride  doth  tread, 

And,  to  subdue  the  world's  wide  all, 

Looks  round,  beneath  him,  high  o'erhead. 

He  sees  the  fairest  goddess  pine, 

Heaven's  child,  the  daughter  of  the  clouds — 
For  her  alone  he  seems  to  shine ; 

In  trembling  grief  his  form  he  shrouds, 

Careless  for  all  the  realms  of  bliss — 
Her  streaming  tears  more  swiftly  flow  : 

For  every  pearl  he  gives  a  kiss, 
And  changeth  into  joy  her  woe. 

She  gazeth  upward  fixedly, 

And  deeply  feels  his  glance  of  might, 
While,  stamp'd  with  his  own  effigy, 

Each  pearl  would  range  itself  aright. 

Thus  wreath'd  with  bows,  with  hues  thus  grae'd, 
With  gladness  beams  her  face  so  fair, 

While  he,  to  meet  her,  maketh  haste, 
And  yet,  alas  !  can  reach  her  ne'er. 


i f  'j-:s t- k  is ter y  divan.  427 

So,  by  the  harsh  decree  of  Fate, 
Thou  movest  from  me,  dearest  one; 

And  were  I  Helios  e'en,  the  Great, 
What  would  avail  his  chariot-throne? 


J.EIKA. 

Zephyr,  for  thy  humid  wing, 

Oh,  how  much  I  envy  thi 
Thou  to  him  canst  tidings  bring 

How  our  parting  saddens  me  ' 

In  my  breast,  a  yearning  still 
As  thy  pinions  wave,  appears; 

Flow'rs  and  eyes,  and  wood,  and  hill 
At  thy  breath  are  steep'd  in  tears. 

mild  wing  gives  relief, 
So<  aching  eyelid's  pain; 

Ah  !  I  else  had  died  for  grief, 
Him  ne'er  hoped  ajain. 

To  my  love,  then,  quick  repair, 
Whisper  softly  to  his  hearl  ; 

Yet,  to  give  him  pain,  beware, 
Nor  my  bosom's  pangfl  imparl. 

Tell  him,  hut  in  a  oy, 

That  his  love  mu-t  be  my  life; 

Both,  with  feelings  fraught  with  joy, 
J 1  j  his  presence  will  be  rife. 


THE    1:1.1   N10N. 

c\s  it  be!  of  Btara  the 

Do  I   !•' 
In  the  uighl  ol 

Whal  deep  gulf,  what  bitter  smarl  ' 


428  PERSIAN  FOLK- LOBE. 

Yes,  'tis  thou,  indeed,  at  last, 
Of  my  joys  the  partner  dear  ! 

Mindful,  though,  of  sorrows  past, 
I  the  present  needs  must  fear. 

When  the  still-unfashion'd  earth 

Lay  on  God's  eternal  breast, 
He  ordain'd  its  hour  of  birth, 

With  creative  joy  possess'd. 
Then  a  heavy  sigh  arose, 

When  He  spake  the  sentence — "  Be  ! " 
And  the  All,  with  mighty  throes, 

Burst  into  reality. 

And  when  thus  was  born  the  light, 

Darkness  near  it  fear'd  to  stay, 
And  the  elements  with  might 

Fled  on  every  side  away  ; 
Each  on  some  far-distant  trace, 

Each  with  visions  wild  employ'd, 
Numb,  in  boundless  realm  of  space, 

Harmony  and  feeling-void. 

Dumb  was  all,  all  still  and  dead, 

For  the  first  time,  God  alone  ! 
Then  He  form'd  the  morning-red, 

Which  soon  made  its  kindness  known 
It  unravel'd  from  the  waste, 

Bright  and  glowing  harmony, 
And  once  more  with  love  was  grac'd 

What  contended  formerly. 

And  with  earnest,  noble  strife, 
Each  its  own  Peculiar  sought ; 

Back  to  full,  unbounded  life 

Sight  and  feeling  soon  were  brought. 

Wherefore,  if  'tis  done,  explore 

lloiv?  why  give  the  manner,  name? 


7 J  'JSS  T-  !■:.  Is  TEB.  V   DIl.-l.  \ '.  429 

Allah  need  create  no  more, 

We  his  world  ourselves  can  frame. 

So,  with  morning  pinions  bright, 

To  thy  mouth  was  I  impell'd  ; 
Stamp'd  with  thousand  seals  by  night, 

Star-cicar  is  the  bund  fast  held. 
Paragons  on  earth  are  we 

Both  of  grief  and  joy  sublime, 
And  a  second  sentence — "  IV  !  " 

Parts  us  not  a  second  time. 


SULK  IK  \. 

With  what  inward  joy,  sweet  lay, 
I  thy  meaning  have  descried ! 

Lovingly  thou  seem'sl  to  say 
That  ['m  ever  by  his  side  ; 

That  he  ever  thinks  of  me, 

That  he  to  the  absent  e 
All  his  love's 

While  for  him  alone  she  li 

Ye-,  the  mirror  which  reveals 
Thee,  my  loved  one,  is  my  breast  ; 

This  the  bosom,  w  here  i  h\  seals 
Endless  kisses  have  impre 

Numbei  .  unsullied  truth, 

( Ihain  me  down  in  sympathy  ! 

Love1    i  rabodied  radiant  youth, 
I  n  i  he  garb  of  poi 

I  n  |  housand  foi  m 

Yet,  all-belo  I 

Thou  mayst  h  ith  magic  ■  •  il    thy  face  ,| 

And  yet,  all  present-oi  I  <l • 


430  PERSIAN  FOLK-LORE. 

Upon  the  cypress'  purest,  youthful  bud, 

All-beauteous-growing-one,  straight  know  I  thee; 

In  the  canal's  unsullied,  living  flood, 
All-captivating-one,  well  know  I  thee. 

When  spreads  the  water-column,  rising  proud, 
All-sportive- one,  how  gladly  know  I  thee; 

When,  e'en  in  forming,  is  transforni'd  the  cloud, 
All-figure-changing-one,  there  know  I  thee. 

Veil'd  in  the  meadow-carpet's  flowery  charms, 
All-checker'd-starry-fair-one,  know  I  thee ; 

And  if  a  plant  extend  its  thousand  arms, 
0  all-embracing-one,  there  know  I  thee. 

When  on  the  mount  is  kindled  morn's  sweet  light, 
Straightway,  all-gladd'ning-one,  salute  I  thee, 

The  arch  of  heaven  o'erhead  grows  pure  and  bright- 
All-heart-expanding-one,  then  breathe  I  thee. 

That  which  my  inward,  outward  sense  proclaims, 
Thou  all-instructing-one,  I  know  through  thee ; 

And  if  I  utter  Allah's  hundred  names, 

A  name  with  each  one  echoes,  meant  for  thee. 

IX. 
SAKI-NAMA. 

(The  Convivial  Book.) 

Can  the  Koran  from  Eternity  be  ? 

'Tis  worth  not  a'  thought ! 
Can  the  Koran  a  creation,  then,  be  ? 

Of  that  I  know  naught ! 
Yet  that  the  book  of  all  books  it  must  be, 

I  believe,  as  a  Mussulman  ought, 
That  from  Eternity  wine,1  though,  must  be, 

I  ever  have  thought ; 


i  The  "  wine  "  and  "  drunkenness  "  in  this jpoem  would  be  interpreted  spiritu- 
ally by  pious  Persians,  whose  religion  forbids  the  use  of  intoxicating  drinks. 


WEST-EASTERN   DIWLY.  431 

That  'twas  ordain'd,  ere  the  Angels,  to  bo, 

As  a  truth  may  be  taught. 
Drinkers,  however  these  matters  may  be, 

Gaze  on  God's  race,  fearing  caught. 


Yi;Ye  often,  for  our  drunkenni 

Blamed  us  in  ev'ry  way, 
And,  in  abuse  of  drunkenness, 

Enough  can  aever  say. 
Men,  overcome  by  drunkenness, 

Are  wont  to  lie  till  day; 
And  yet  I  find  my  drunkenn 

All  night-time  make  me  stray; 
For,  oh  !  'tis  Love's  sweel  drunkenni 

That  maketh  me  its  prey, 
Which  night  and  day,  and  day  and  night, 

.My  heart  must  needs  obey — 
A  hear!  that,  in  its  drunkeni 

Pours  forth  full  many  a  lay. 
So  that  no  trifling  drunkeni 

Can  daic  assert  i 

j,  ami  wine's  sweet  drunkenncs  . 

B)  night-time  ami  by  day — 
■■"Mike  is  the  drunkei 

That  maketh  me  its  prey  '. 


MATPIAL    N  \M  A. 

Prom  heaven  there  fell  upon  the  foan 
A  timid  drop :  the  flood  with  ir'd 

Strength  to  the  drop  and  firm  endurai 


432  PERSIAN  FOLK-LORE. 

And  to  its  lasting  glory  and  renown, 
The  pearl  now  glistens  in  our  monarch's  crown, 
With  gentle  gleam  and  loving  look. 


BulbulV  song,  through  night  hours  cold, 
Kose  to  Allah's  throne  on  high ; 
To  reward  her  melody, 

Giveth  he  a  cage  of  gold. 

Such  a  cage  are  limbs  of  men — 
Though  at  first  she  feels  confin'd, 
Yet  when  all  she  brings  to  mind, 

Straight  the  spirit  sings  again. 


In  the  Koran  with  strange  delight 
A  peacock's  feather  met  my  sight : 
Thou'rt  welcome  in  this  holy  place, 
The  highest  prize  on  earth's  wide  face ! 
As  in  the  stars  of  heaven,  in  thee, 
God's  greatness  in  the  small  we  see ; 


For  he  whose  gaze  whole  worlds  hath  bless'd 
His  eye  hath  even  here  impress'd, 
And  the  light  down  in  beauty  dress'd, 
So  that  e'en  monarchs  can  not  hope 
In  splendor  with  the  bird  to  cope. 
Meekly  enjoy  thy  happy  lot, 
And  so  deserve  that  holy  spot! 


All  kinds  of  men,  both  small  and  great, 

A  fine-spun  web  delight  to  create, 

And  in  the  middle  they  take  their  place, 

And  wield  their  scissors  with  wondrous  grace. 

But  if  a  besom  should  sweep  that  way : 

"  What  a  most  shameful  thing  !  "  they  say — 

"  They've  crush'd  a  mighty  palace  to-day  !  " 

1  Bulbiil,  the  Persian  nightingale. 


M'EST-EJSTEHjY  DIVAN.  433 

IT   IS   GOOD. 

In  Paradise  while  moonbeams  play'd, 

Jehovah  found,  in  slumber  deep, 
Adam  fast  sunk,     lie  gently  bad 

Eve  near  him — she,  too,  fell  asleep. 
There  lay  they  now,  on  earth's  fail-  shrine, 
God's  two  most  beauteous  thoughts  divine. 
When  this  He  saw,  lie  cried,  "bis  good  ! ! ! 
And  scarce  could  move  from  where  Be  stood. 

Xo  wonder,  that  our  joy's  complete 

While  eye  and  eye  responsive  meet, 

When  this  blest  thought  of  rapture  moves  us — 

That  we're  with  Eim  who  truly  loves  us; 

And  if  lie  cries,  Good,  let  it  be! 

'Tis  so  for  both,  it  seems  to  me. 

Thou'rt  clasp'd  within  these  arms  of  mine, 

Dearest  of  all  God's  thoughts  divine  ! 

XII. 

CHULD  NAMA. 

{Book  of  I 'a  n  i<l  ix  .) 

THE    PRIVILEGED    MEM". 

MAHOMET    (MOB  LHHED)   SPEAKS.1 

Let  the  foeman  sorrow  o'er  his  dead, 

Ne'er  will  they  return  again  to  lighl  ; 
O'er  our  brethren  let  no  tear  be  shed, 

Fox  they  dwell  ahove  yon  spheres  so  bright. 


'  The  Prop 

ond  year  of  the  Hegira).     W  ith  tl 
and  three  camels,  he  bad  defi 
of  whom  were  mounted  on  Beet  horecfl. 
med'e  career,  and  he  claimi  I  I 
promised  to  his  follower 
and  Bowen  and  perfumed  /■  phyra,  with 
companions  of  the  faithful. 
FOLK-LOEl 


434  PERSIAN  FOLK-LORE. 

All  the  seven  planets  open  throw 

All  their  metal  doors  with  mighty  shock, 

And  the  forms  of  those  we  loved  below 
At  the  gates  of  Eden  boldly  knock. 

There  they  find,  with  bliss  ne'er  dream'd  before, 
Glories  that  my  flight  first  show'd  to  eye, 

When  the  wondrous  steed  my  person  bore 
In  one  second  through  the  realms  on  high. 

Wisdom's  trees,  in  cypress-order  growing, 
High  uphold  the  golden  apples  sweet ; 

Trees  of  life,  their  spreading  shadows  throwing, 
Shade  each  blossoming  plant,  each  flow'ry  seat. 

Now  a  balmy  zephyr  from  the  East 

Brings  the  heavenly  maidens  to  thy  view ; 

With  the  eye  thou  now  dost  taste  the  feast, 

Soon  the  sight  pervades  thee  through  and  through. 

There  they  stand,  to  ask  thee  thy  career : 
Mighty  plans  ?  or  dangerous  bloody  rout  ? 

Thou'rt  a  hero,  know  they— for  thou'rt  here, 
What  a  hero?— This  they'll  fathom  out. 

By  thy  wounds  soon  clearly  this  is  shown, 

Wounds  that  write  thy  fame's  undying  story ; 

Wounds  the  true  .believer  mark  alone, 

When  have  perish'd  joy  and  earthly  glory. 

To  chiosks  1  and  arbors  thou  art  brought, 

Fill'd  with  checker'd  marble  columns  bright ; 
To  the  noble  grape-juice,  solace-fraught, 

They  the  guest  with  kindly  sips  invite. 
Youth  !  Thou'rt  welcome  more  than  e'er  was  youth  ; 

All  alike  are  radiant  and  serene ; 
When  thou  tak'st  one  to  thine  heart  with  truth, 

Of  thy  band  she'll  be  the  friend  and  queen. 


i  Chiosks,  or  kiosks,  open  summer-houses,  or  pavilions. 


WEST-EASTERN  DIVAN.  435 

So  prepare  thee  for  this  place  of  rest  ; 

Never  can  it  now  be  changed  again  ; 
Maids  like  these  will  ever  make  thee  blest, 

Wines  like  the.se  will  never  harm  thy  brain. 


1  n  i;    l  A  \  DB.ED    BE  i.STS. 

Of  beasts  there  have  been  chosen  four 

To  come  to  Paradise, 
Ami  there  with  saints  for  evermore 
.  dwell  in  happy  wise. 

Amongst  them  all  the  Ass  stands  first ; 

lie  comes  with  joyous  Btri 
For  to  the  Prophet-City  erst 

Did  Jesus  on  him  ride. 

Half  timid  nexl  a  Wolf  doth  erect.. 
To  u  horn  Mahomet  spake  : 

,,il  not  the  pooi-  man  of  his  sheep  ; 
The  rich  man's  thou  mays!  take." 

Ami  th.n  the  brave  and  faithful  Hound 

Who  by  his  master  kept, 
AtI  jlepl  with  him  the  Blumbers  Bound 

The  Seven  Sleepers  slept. 

Abuherrira'     I  here 

Purrs  round  hi-  master  bli 
For  holy  must  the  bea  it  appear 

'I'le'  Prophet  hath  caress'd. 

i  in    -i  \  i  \    .-Mini 
Six  among  the  courtii  re  favor'd 
Fly  before  tie  I  fury, 


'  ,\1  Kakim. 
3  Abuhcrrii 
•  Th( 
forrefuge  from  th(   D 


436  PERSIAN  FOLK-LORE. 

Who  would  as  a  god  be  worship'd, 

Though  in  truth  no  god  appearing, 

For  a  fly  prevents  him  ever 

From  enjoying  food  at  table. 

Though  with  fans  his  servants  scare  it, 

They  the  fly  can  never  banish. 

It  torments  him,  stings,  and  troubles, 

And  the  festal  board  perplexes, 

Then  returning  like  the  herald 

Of  the  olden  crafty  Fly- God. 

"  What !  " — the  striplings  say  together — 

"  Shall  a  fly  a  god  embarrass  ? 

"  Shall  a  god  drink,  eat  at  table, 
Like  us  mortals  ?    No,  the  Only, 
Who  the  sun  and  moon  created, 
And  the  glowing  stars  arch'd  o'er  us, 
He  is  God— we'll  fly  ! "     The  gentle, 
Lightly  shod,  and  dainty  striplings 
Did  a  shepherd  meet,  and  hide  them, 
With  himself,  within  a  cavern. 

And  the  sheep-dog  will  not  leave  them — 
Scared  away,  his  foot  all-mangled, 
To  his  master  still  he  presses, 
And  he  joins  the  hidden  party, 
Joins  the  favorites  of  slumber. 

And  the  prince,  whom  they  had  fled  from, 
Fondly-furious,  thinks  of  vengeance, 
And,  discarding  sword  and  fire, 


the  year  479  their  bodies  were  discovered ;  and  the  legend  told  of  them,  in 
the  usual  phrase  of  early  Christians,  that  they  had  "  fallen  asleep  in  Jesus." 
This  was  subsequently  interpreted  literally,  and  the  story  grew  of  a  miraculous 
sleep  of  centuries,  from  which  the  martyrs  awakened  when  their  tomb  was 
opened.  The  story  is  told  in  the  Koran,  with  some  additions.  The  Koran  re- 
lates that  a  dog  slept  and  awakened  with  the  Seven  Sleepers,  and  that  the  sun 
altered  its  course  to  illuminate  the  cavern. 


1 1  7>'  T-  /•:  IS  TUB.  V   1H1.LY.  437 

Has  them  wall'd  up  in  the  cavern, 
Wall'd  up  fast  with  bricks  and  mortar. 

But  the  others  slumber  ever, 
And  the  Angel,  their  protector, 
Gives  before  God's  throne  this  notice : 
••  To  the  right  and  left  alternate 
Have  I  ever  cared  to  turn  them. 
That  their  fair  and  youthful  membe 
Be  not  by  the  mold-damp  injured; 
Clefts  within  the  rucks  I  open'd, 
That  the  sun  may,  rising,  settii 

their  cheeks  in  youthful  freshn 
So  they  lie  there,  bless'd  by  Beaven, 
And,  with  forepaws  sound  and  Bcathl 
Sleeps  the  dog  in  gentle  slumber. 

Years  come  round,  and  years  fly  onward, 

:  the  youths  at  length  awaken. 
Ami  the  wall,  which  now  had  molder'd, 
From  its  very  age  has  fallen. 
And  Jamblika  '  says     whose  beauty 
Far  exceedeth  all  the  othi  i 
When  the  fearful  shepherd  lingi 
"  I  will  run,  and  food  procure  you, 
Life  and  piece  of  gold  ['11  wager!  "— 
Ephe8U8  had  many  a  year  now 
Own'd  the  teaching  <>f  the  Prophet  ■ 
.1.  .  be  with  the  Good  One!), 

And  he  ran,  and  at  the  gateway 
\\  ere  the  warders  and  the  othi 
Ye\  he  to  the  nearest  baki 

kin-  bread,  went  swiftly  onwai 


.The  nan, 
nii.l  Christians. 


438  PERSIAN  FOLK-LORE. 

"  Rogue  !  "  thus  cried  the  baker,  "  hast  thou, 
Youth,  a  treasure,  then,  discover'd  ? 1 
Give  me — for  the  gold  betrays  thee' — 
•  Give  me  half,  to  keep  thy  secret !  " 

And  they  quarrel. — To  the  monarch 
Comes  the  matter ;  and  the  monarch 
Fain  would  halve  it,  like  the  baker. 

Now  the  miracle  is  proven 

Slowly  by  a  hundred  tokens. 

He  can  e'en  his  right  establish 

To  the  palace  he  erected, 

For  a  pillar,  when  pierced  open, 

Leads  to  wealth  he  said  'twould  lead  to. 

Soon  are  gather'd  there  whole  races, 

Their  relationship  to  show  him. 

And  as  great-grandfather,  nobly 

Stands  Jamblika's  youthful  figure. 

As  of  ancestors,  he  hears  them, 
Speaking  of  his  son  and  grandsons. 
His  great-grandsons  stand  around  him, 
Like  a  race  of  valiant  mortals, 
Him  to  honor — him,  the  youngest. 
And  one  token  on  another 
Rises  up,  the  proof  completing ; 
The  identity  is  proven 
Of  himself,  and  of  his  comrades. 

Now  returns  he  to  the  cavern  ; 
With  him  go  both  king  and  people — 
Neither  to  the  king  nor  people 
E'er  returns  that  chosen  mortal : 


1  Jamblika  and  his  companions  supposed  that  they  had  slept  but  one  night, 
instead  of  two  centuries  and  more.  Jamblika's  coin  was  recognized  by  the 
baker  as  a  rare  and  valuable  antique — a  fact  which  led  to  the  revelation  of  the 
miracle. 


WEST-E  ISTERN  DIWIX.  43& 

For  the  Seven,  who  for  aires — 

Eight  was,  with  the  dog,  their  number — 

Had  from  all  the  world  been  sunder'd, 

Gabriel's  mysterious  power, 

To  the  will  of  God  obedient, 

Hath  to  Paradise  conducted — 

And  the  cave  was  closed  forever. 


ABOU  BEN  ADHEM  AND  THE  ANGEL. 

BY   JAMES    HENRY    LEIGH    HUNT. 

Abou  B]  s   A  mm  v     may  bis  tribe  increase! — 

Awoke  one  night  from  a  deep  dream  of  peace, 

And  saw,  within  the  moonlight  in  his  room, 

Making  it  rich  and  like  a  lily  in  bloom, 

An  Angel  writing  in  a  book  of  gold. 

I  |   peace  bad  made  BeD  Adhem  bold, 

Ami  tn  tin'  Presence  in  tin'  room  hr  said, 

"  What  writes!  thou?"     The  vision  raised  it.;  bead, 

And,  with  a  look  made  of  all  Bweel  accord, 

wer'd,  "  The  names  of  those  who  lovi   thi    Lord." 
"  And  is  mine  one?"  Baid  Abou.     "  Naj 
Replied  the  Angel.     Abou  spoke  more  low, 
lint  cheerly  still,  and  said,  "  I  pray  thee,  then, 
Wrin-  me  as  one  thai  loves  bis  fellow-men  ! " 

The  Angel  wrote,  and  vanish'd.     The  uexl  n 
It  came  again  with  a  Lfi«;» t  wakening  light, 
And  Bhow'd  the  names  whom  I  God  had  bli 

And,  I"  !  Ben  Adhem's  uame  led  all  the  • 


INDEX 


AberfTraw,  53. 

Abessa,  19. 

Abou  Ben  Adhem  and  tlie  Angel.  431>. 

Abraham,  421. 

Abuherrira,  same  as  Mohammed,  435. 

Abu'l  Kasim  Mausur.  374. 

Abu'l  Kilsiin  Mansur's  Song  of  Rustum, 

Achilles.  194,  197, 
Acrasia,  19. 

Adam.  370. 

Address  to  the  Mummy  al  Belzi  .ni's  Ex- 
hibit i 

Aditi,  . 

Adorns,  827. 
-.  39. 

JEneid,  Vergil's,  30. 

jEschere,  17. 
14. 

Age  of  Chivalry,  Th>-,  51, 

Agnastr 

Agnl, 

Agravain,  12. 

Ahrimai  Arimanius,  Angrd- 

malnyus, 

Ahura  n  mazd,  <  Iroma- 

A  (hum 

Ako  m&no 

Alberlc 

Albloi 

Al  Borak,  871. 

All  for  Love,  867. 

Alio  way 'a  auld  haunted  l 

Alpin.  IS 

Al  Rakim,  ■:'. 

Altadfl 

hi  Folk  lore 

A  ni'  - 

Amir  Khusra 
Ammonites,  The 
Amoret,  19. 
Annul,  same  a    Nephj  i 

Aiiiiin  r 
Anacn 

Anderson,  Proi    R   B 
Andvare,  I6S. 
154 

us  England 
Angles,  Tie 


Angro-mainyus,  same  ns  Ahriman,  Art- 

maun, 
Antony  and  <  ileopal  •  i 
Auwari,  Bame  a>  Enwei  i 
Apis,  354. 
Ap  icrj  pi. a 
Arabian  Nighl 

Archimaj 

Arimanius,   sane-  as  Ahriman,   AngrO- 

maii 
Arimathea,  Joseph  of,  n 
Arnold,  Matthew.  10 
Arnold '8   Matthew)  Sohrab  and  Rustum, 

Arnold,  sit-  Edw  it 

Arnold,  Sir  Edwin,  Extracts  from,  878, 

-   sw  Edwin)  Light  of  '. 

Arnold's  (Sir  Edwin)  Nala  and   Dama 

Van 
Arthur.  King    . 
Arun, 

1    154. 

Ishland,  12 

Ask.  151. 

'     II 

Vubcr's  Ood  and  n 

\,i.ii,..     I 


442 


INDEX. 


Bahrain  Our,  372,  374. 

Baker's  Translation  of  Tegner's  Fridth- 

jof's  Saga,  167-170. 
Balaam's  Ass,  421. 
Balder,  153. 
Balea,  331. 
Balmung,  194%  196. 
Barnburners.  12. 
Bayaderes,  209. 
Bedar,  same  as  Bedr,  371,  433. 
Bediveie,  Sir,  44. 
Bedr,  same  as  Bedar,  371,  433. 
Beecher,  Henry  Ward,  13. 
Bel,  328. 
Beleses,  331. 
Beltis,  328. 
Beowulf,  47. 

Berlioz,  Hector,  200,  201. 
Bible,  Extracts  from,  327,  328,  329. 
Bicknell's  Translation  of  Ode  from  Ha- 

fiz,  417. 
Bjoruson,  Bjornstjerne,  157. 
Bluebeard,  11. 
Bluetooth,  Harold,  150. 
Boadicea,  same  as  Bonduca,  Bunduca, 

40,  50,  90-91. 
Bodmere,  Professor,  198. 
Bonduca,  same  as  Boadicea,  Bunduca, 

40. 
Book  of  Parables,  431. 
Book  of  Paradise,  433. 
Book  of  Phtah-hotep,  356. 
Book  of  Proverbs,  418. 
Book  of  Suleika,  421. 
Book  of  the  Dead,  The,  356. 
Book  of  the  Kings,  The,  374. 
Borandan,  Saint,  same  as  Brandan.  46. 
Bowring's     translation      of      Goethe's 

Poems,  256-257,  318-321,  41!M39. 
Boyesen,  Hjalmar  Hjorth,  157. 
Boyesen,  Extract  from,  271. 
Brage,  Bragi,  153. 
Bragg,  Captain,  13. 
Brahma,  267.  268,  269.  270,  324-325. 
Brahmans,  The,  267,  270. 
Brandan,  Saint,  same  as  Borandan,  46. 
Brangwain,  43. 
Bribier,  200. 

Bridal  of  IVnnacook,  20. 
British  Folk-lore,  39-149. 
Britomartis.  Britomart,  49. 
Browning.  Robert,  10,  51,  201. 
Browning's  Childe  Roland.  118-125. 
Browning's  Pied  Piper  of  Hamelin,  201, 

257-265. 
Brunhild,  194,  195,  199. 
Brutus,  Brute,  39,  40. 
Bryant,  William  Cullen,  19. 
Bryant's  Indian  Story,  21-23. 
Brynhild,  156,  196,  197. 
Buddha,  267,  268,  270,  272,  273. 
Bulbul.  432. 
Bulfinch,  Thomas,  51. 
Bulfineh's  Age  of  Chivalry,  52. 
Bunduca, same  as  Boadicea,  Bonduca, 40. 
Burns,  Robert,  52. 
Burns's  Tarn  o'  Shanter,  52,  142-149. 
Byron,  Lord.  3.30. 
Byron,  Extracts  from,  326,  331. 
Byron's  Destruction  of  Sennacherib,  350. 


Byron's  Sardanapalus,  331-349. 

Cabades,  372. 

Caerleon,  41. 

Caesar,  Julius,  356. 

Calderon,  46,  420. 

Calidore,  Sir,  43. 

Camelot,  41. 

Campbell,  Thomas,  20,  40. 

Campbell,  Extract  from,  16. 

i  lanaanites,  The,  326. 

Cane,  200. 

Cardiff,  41. 

Uarlyle,  Thomas,  199,  200. 

Carolsfeld,  Schnorr  von,  199. 

Carpetbaggers,  12. 

Cartwright,  Peter,  13. 

('.irvcr's  Cave,  20. 

Cassibellaunus,  40. 

Catskills,  The,  21. 

Centeotl,  19. 

Cerdic,  40. 

Chaldean  Account  of  Genesis,  330. 

Champollion,  Jean  Francois,  356. 

Chandra,  269. 

Charissa,  49. 

Charles  XII,  159. 

Chaucer,  Extract  from,  43. 

Chemosh,  327. 

Chiabo,  17. 

Chibiabos,  17. 

Childe  Roland,  9,51. 

Childe  Roland  to  the  Dark  Tower  came, 

118-125. 
Chilminar,  371. 
Cholula,  19. 

Chronicles.  Holinshed's,  51,  52. 
Chuld-Nama,  433. 
Cinderella,  11. 
Clemens.    Samuel    L.,    same   as   Mark 

Twain.  52. 
Cleopatra,  356,  357. 
( ileopatra,  Antony  and.  357. 
Code  of  Manu,  The,  272. 
Coel.  Cole,  40. 
Comanche  Boy,  25. 
Comus,  Milton's,  21. 
Constantine,  40. 
Convivial  Book.  The,  430. 
Cook's  translation  of  Enna's  Hymn  to 

the  Nile.  360-362. 
Copperheads,  12. 
Cordelia,  51. 
Corineus,  39. 
Cornwall,  King  of,  40. 
Cornwall,  Queen  of,  43. 
Cortes,  21. 

Cowper,  William.  50. 
Cowper's  Boadicea.  50,  90-91. 
Culprit  Fay,  The.  20,  26-38. 
Curse  of  Kehama,  272. 
Curtius,  8. 
Cymbeline,  40,  51. 
Dacotahs,  same  as  Sioux,  18. 
Dagon,  326. 
Dahana,  269. 
Damayanti.  272,  300. 
Dankrat,  King,  194. 
Dante's  Divina  Commedia,  46. 
Darden's  Comanche  Boy,  25. 
Davydd,  David.  53. 


INDEX. 


44ij 


Death  Lament  of  tbi   '  sie  Chief- 

tain.  'J I  '.'.".. 
Death  of  Siegfried,  The,  199. 
Decameron,  The,  156. 
Delhi,  272. 

De  Map.  Wa! 

Destruction  "f  Sennacherib,  350. 

]>'\  as,  same  as  I  >iva 

Dhammapada,  272. 

Diodorus  Siculus, 

Disraeli,  Isaac,  Extract  from,  18. 

ime  a--  Dei 
Divina  '  lommedia 
Dragon,  47,  18,  50,  193. 
Drake,  J ').-s'-|/li  Rodman,  20. 
Drake's  Culprit  Fa 
Draupner,  151. 
Drui.ls.  89. 
Dryden's  All  for  Lovi 

Lni"  (  hailiu.  Kxtia.  I   tTOB 
.   19. 

Durga 

16. 
Eblis, 

10. 
■.an  Folk  Ion 
Eiiiar  Tamberskelver,  157. 
Elaine,  (4. 
Elizabeth,  11.  J*. 
Elves,  154. 
Embla,  151. 

Emerson,  Ralph  Waldo, 
Emerson,  Extracts  from 

m's  Brain 
Engha 

ime  a^  Angle  land,  46. 
Enid,  44. 

Enna'a  Hj  mn  to  the  Ni 
Enweri,  same  as  an  wai  I 
16. 

Erik  tin-  tied,  159. 
Erl-KJng,  1  h 
Etzel,  King,  194    195,  190. 
Euhemeri  • 
Euhemerus.  7. 
Excallbur,  14. 

ne,  The,  13,  18,  50,  51  90. 

Fa  f  ii  it 

i  I  d,  The  21 

Fair]  land,  154. 

Fausl    Di       ■     :     ■     ■ 

1  i  tamnatlon  of.  201 

155. 
Fidell 

Field  160. 

II 
1 
Flrdaunra  SI  ah  n  i 

i    ■ 


Fleet.  Thomas,  11. 
Folk-li  ire 
American,  I 

Britta 

Egyptian,  8! 

Germ 

Hindi 

Norse,  150  192. 

Persia 

S\  II  LI 

Forestier.  Aubi  r,  I 

Franklin  Benjamin,  1 1. 

1 5 1 
Frey,  154,  156. 

.  i.".  I 

Fridthjo 
Frigga, 
Gabriel,  ■  ;:  l 

I 

I 

Car.  I 

Gautan  iddartha,  1".  - 

I  he,  IT." 

'.II 

I 

t,  Sir,  ii 
Folk  lore,  19 

■ 

Gilderoy,  12 

151. 

(.ml., 

i  a,  i" 

■ 

■ 
i 
■ 


444 


INDEX. 


Grimm  Brothers,  199. 

Gudrun,  196,  197. 

Guebres,  same  as  Parsees,  3bi . 

Guildford,  41. 

Guinevere,  same  as  Geneura,  9,  41,  101- 

118. 
Gungner,  151* 
Gunnar,  196,  197. 
Gunther,  194,  195. 
Guyon,  Sir,  49. 
Hafiz,  375. 

Haflz,  An  Ode  from,  417. 
lHageii,  194,  195,  198. 
Hakim  ben  Allah,  372. 
Hale,  Edward  Everett,  52. 
Hale's  Story  of  Mexico,  21. 
Hameln,  same  as  Hamehn,  9,  198,  »n. 
Hamlet,  12. 
Hamo's  Port,  41. 
Harvest  Home,  39. 
Hatem,  422,  423. 
Hatim  Tai,  372. 
Haurvatat,  368. 
Hayes,  Dr.  I.  I.,  160. 
Hector,  11.  „ 

Heimdal,  Heimdallar,  153,  15o,  156. 
Heimskringla,  156,  157. 
Heine,  Heinrieh,  201,  376. 
Heine's  Loreley,  201,  265-266. 

Hela,  153,  154.  ...„. 

Helena,  Empress  40,  same  as  Saint  llel 
ena. 

Helga,  The,  156. 

Helheim,  154. 

Henry  VIII,  11. 

Herbert,  William,  156. 

Herbert's  Song  of  Vala,  160-163. 

Hercules,  11. 

Herjulfson,  Bjarne,  159. 

Herodotus,  357. 

Hiawatha,  16,  17,  18. 

Hiawatha,  Song  of,  20. 

Hikmet-Nama,  418. 

Hindfell,  196. 

Hindu  Folk-lore,  267-325. 

Hiordis,  196. 

Hlidskjalf,  151,154. 

Hoard  of  Golden  Treasure,  The,  154,  196. 

Hobson,  12. 

Hoder,  153. 

Hogni,  197. 

Holcomb,  Extract  from,  154. 

Holinshed,  Chronicles  of,  51,  52. 

Holmes,  Oliver  Wendell,  273. 

Holy  Grail,  same  as  Holy  Graal,  San- 
greal,  San  Graal,  41,  51. 

Horatius,  8. 

Horner,  Jack,  11. 

Horus,  same  as  Orus,  354. 

Howitt,  William  and  Mary,  8. 

Hreidmar,  155,  196. 

Hrothgar,  47. 

Hugin,  151. 

Huitzilopochtli,  19. 

Hunkers,  12. 

Huns,  The,  194,  195,  197. 

Hunt,  Leigh,  376. 

Hunt's  Abou  Ben  Adhem  and  the  Angel, 

439. 
Hyazum,  371. 


Hymn  to  the  Nile,  360-362. 

Hy  well,  53. 

lagoo,  17,  18. 

Ibsen,  Henrik,  157,  160. 

Ibsen,  Extract  from,  160. 

Ibsen's  Burned  Ships,  160. 

Idylls  of  the  King,  43,  51,  101-118. 

Ignaro,  49. 

II,  same  as  Asshur,  328. 

Imir,  same  as  Ymer,  151. 

Indian  Story,  An,  21-23. 

Indra,  268,  368. 

Ingeborg,  158. 

Ipaluemoan,  19. 

Iran,  366,  371. 

Irmiusul,  39. 

Irving,  Washington,  21. 

Isenlaud,  same  as  Yssel,  195. 

Iseult,  same  as  Isoude,  Isolde,  9,  43,  52. 

Ishtar,  same  as  Astarte,  Ashtaroth,  As- 

toreth,  326,  328. 
Isis,  354. 

Isis  and  Osiris,  362-364. 
Isis,  Temple  of,  357. 
Isolde,  same  as  Iseult,  Isoude,  9,  43,  52. 
Isoude  of  the  White  Hands,  43. 
Israfil,  370. 
Izdubar,  328. 

Jack  and  the  Beanstalk,  201. 
.lark  the  Giant- Killer,  39. 
Jacob,  421. 
Jagannath,  same  as  Juggernaut,  Jaga- 

naut,  Jaga-Naut,  269. 
Jaga-Naut,  321-324. 
Jamblika,  438. 
Jamshyd,  Emperor,  14,  371. 
Jan  Ibn  J&n,  371. 
Jayadeva's  Gitagovinda,  272. 
Jeiusalem,  371. 
Jesus,  437. 
Jones,  Sir  William,  271. 

Jord,  151. 

Jordan,  William,  199. 

Joseph,  same  as  Jussuf,  421. 

Judas,  41. 

Juggernaut,  same  as  Jagannath,  Jaga- 
"haut,  Jaga-Naut,  269. 

Jussuf,  same  as  Joseph,  421. 

Justinian,  372. 

Kaikhosrft,  409. 

Kaikobad,  372,409. 

Kalidasa,  272. 

Kamadeva,  269. 

Karlsefne,  Thorfinn,  159. 

Karttikeya,  268. 

Kasyapa,  269. 

Kermess,  The,  201. 

Khayyam,  Omar,  375. 

Khayyam.  Omar,  Extracts  from,  3i0,  3,2, 
373,  375,  408-417. 

Khayyam's  Rubaiyat,  408-41,. 

Khorassan,  372. 

Knight,  The  Courteous,  42. 

Knight,  The  Red  Cross,  49. 

Knight,  The  Sage.  42 

Knights  of  the  Round  Table,  40. 

Koran.  The,  436. 

Kriemhild,  194,  195,  196. 

Krishna,  268,  272. 

Kubera,  269. 


INDEX. 


443 


Kwasind.  17. 

Lake.  Ladv  of.  same  as  Vivien,  11. 

Lakshmi    . 

Lalla  Rookh.  :>,::,,  376-391. 

Lancelot  du  Lac,  Sir.  44.  50. 

Lassbu, . 

Launlal.  Sir,  41. 

Layard,  Austen  Henry,  330. 

Layard's  Nineveh  ami  its  Reman 

Lear,  Leir,  King,  i".  51. 

I  of  Sleepy  Hollow  .  31 . 
Leif  the  Fortunate,  159. 
Lei,  I.' 

Leir,  same  as  Lear,  i".  51. 
Lent.  Mohainmedai 
Light  Of  Asia.   Hi. 
Lincoln,  Abraham,  18. 
Lindenwal  I 

Little  Bed  Biding-H I.  11. 

Log,  K 

Lofce,  i 

;  How,  Benry  W.,  10,  16, '.'".  156,  157. 

]  How,  Extracts  from,  16,  17,  18,  30, 

:  if  a  Wayside  Inn.  157. 

Loreii 

Marquis  of,  1". 

Derg,  )."). 
Lowell.  James  Russell,  ]».  160, 
Lowell,  Extracts  from,  (2,  163. 

-  rhorwald's  Laj    IfiO  II 
Lucifei 
Lud.  10. 
Ludgat* 

i  -■•.  ii. 

Mai,  '. 
Mabinogeon,  The   ' 

Dtosh,  Sir  .! 
Mackii  •  l.  16, 

Hacphi 

I  12. 

Ifaeldui 
Maeldune,  Vi 
Magi.  The 

Mabish 
Mahomi 

Manabozo,  17. 
Maneth 

■..  19. 

•  gend  of,  21  38. 

:  •' 

Matbal 
Haj  I' 
McCullooh,  Extract  fron 

Meg 


Memnon,  355. 
Mentor.  11. 
Mephistophelee,  200. 
Mercy,  19. 

Merlin.   I 

MetztU,  19. 

Mexican  Folk  lore,  19,  30. 

: .  21. 
Mexico.  The  St<  rj  of,  31. 
Michabou,  17. 
Michelet,  194, 

1 53. 
Midgard  Serpent, 
Midsummer  I  ■ 

Midsummer  Nighl  >  Dream,  49. 
Milton,  870. 

Milton, 'Extracts  from, 88 
Minnehaha,  18. 
Mitche  Mann 
Mithrati 

Modred,  40, 

Mogg  Megon 

Mohan,'  .  ■  Mahomet, Abuher- 

rira, 
Mohammedan  Lent,  116, 
Mohammedan 
Mokani 
Molocl 

18. 

Monmouth,  G 

Mi  'ii'' 

Montpel 

Moore,  'I  hon 

891. 
Moon 

M 

l8«  and   th< 

Veiled   Prophi  t  of    Kin 

William.   II 

■ 

Moll,, 

Mother  Hul  " 

Mucin 

Mndjel 

• 

MunchatiHcn,  1 1 
Munln 


446 


INDEX. 


Nebo,  328. 

Nephyx,  same  as  Amun,  355. 

Nergal,  328. 

Ni  belung,  King,  193. 

Nibelung,  Prince.  193. 

Nibelungen,  The  Ring  of,  199. 

Nibelungenland,  195,  197. 

Nibelungenlied,  The,  9,  156,  198,  199,  374. 

Nibelungs,  The,  194,  196,  199. 

Niebuhr,  9. 

Nitlheim,  151,  197. 

Nin,  328. 

Nineveh,  329. 

Nineveh  and  its  Remains,  330. 

Ninus,  329. 

Nirvana,  270,  271,  272. 

Nirvana  the  Blest,  270. 

Nizir,  330. 

Njord,  154. 

Nokomis,  18. 

Norma,  Bellini's,  39. 

Noras,  The,  154. 

Norse  Folk-lore,  150-192. 

Norsemen,  The,  160,  165-166. 

Notes  of  Literature  : 

American,  20-21. 

Assyrian,  329-330. 

British,  50-53. 

Egyptian,  355-357. 

German,  198-201. 

Hindu,  271-273. 

Norse,  156-160. 

Persian,  373-376. 

Syrian.  329-330. 
Oberon,  50. 
Ode  from  Haflz,  417. 
Odin,  151.  152.  153,  155,  156. 
Odyssey,  Iliad  and,  272. 
Olaf  Tryggvesson,  150. 
Old  Bullion.  12. 
Old  Dog  Tray,  12. 
Old  Hickory,  12. 
Omar.  Caliph,  367. 
Omar  Khayyam,  374,  375. 
Omar  Khayyam,  Extracts  from,  370,  372, 

373,  375,  408-417. 
Omar  Khayyam's  Rubaiyat,  408-417. 
Orgoglio,  49. 
Orissa,  270. 
Ormazd,    same   as    Oromazes,    Ahura- 

mazda,  367,  368. 
Orus,  .same  as  Horus,  354. 
Osiris,  354,  356. 
Osiris,  Isis  and,  362-364. 
Ossian,  44. 
Ovid,  353. 

Owam  Gwynedd,  53. 
Owain,  Sir,  46. 
Oweenee,  18. 
Palladium,  The,  11. 
Pania,  331 . 
Pantheon,  273. 
Pantheon,  Aztec,  19. 
Parables.  Book  of.  431. 
Paradise  and  the  Peri,  375,  376-391. 
Paradise,  Book  of,  433. 
Paran,  269. 

Parsees,  same  as  Guebres,  367. 
Parton,  James,  40. 
Parvati,  269. 


Pasht,  354. 

Patience,  49. 

Patrick,  Saint,  45. 

Pentaour,  356. 

Percy,  Thomas,  51. 

Percy's  Reliques,  51,  74. 

Peris,  368,  369,  375. 

Persepolis.  371. 

Persian  Folk-lore,  366-439. 

Peru,  Conquest  of,  21. 

Peruvians,  20,  21. 

Peter  the  Great,  159. 

Pharaoh,  same  as  Rameses  II,  356. 

Pharaohs,  357. 

Philistines,  320. 

Phoenicians,  326. 

Phtah,  355. 

Pied  Piper  of  Hamelin  or  Hameln,  198, 

201,  257-265. 
Pocahontas,  9. 
Ponemah,  Kingdom  of,  18. 
Pope,  Extract  from,  15. 
Potiphar,  371,  421. 
Prescott,  William  H.,  21. 
Prescott,  Extract  from,  16. 
Prescott's  Conquest  of  Mexico.  21. 
Prescott's  Conquest  of  Peru.  21. 
Privileged  Men,  The,  433. 
Procrustes,  11. 
Prophet,  The,  370,  433. 
Proteus,  11. 
Proverbs.  Book  of,  418. 
Ptolemies,  The,  357. 
Puck,  50. 

Puranas,  The,  272. 
Purgatory,  Saint  Patrick's,  45. 
Quetzalcoatl,  19. 
Ra,  354. 

Ragnarok,  9,  151,  155,  156. 
Rail-splitter,  12. 
Rama,  268,  269,  272. 
Ramayana,  The,  272. 
Rameses  II,  same  as  Pharaoh,  356. 
Ramphis,  357. 
Rask,  Rasmus  Christian,  7. 
Rawlinson,  357. 
Rawlinson,  Extract,  from  373. 
Rawlinson's  Ancient  Monarchies,  330. 
Rawlinson's   Religions  of   the  Ancient 

World,  330. 
Regent  of  the  Sun,  The,  370. 
Regin,  196. 
Regno,  45. 

Religions  of  the  Ancient  World.  330. 
Reliques  of  Ancient  English  Poetry,  51. 
Reunion,  The,  427. 
Rhinegold,  The,  199. 
Rig- Veda,  271. 
Rimmon,  327. 
Rind,  151. 

Ring  of  the  Nibehmgen,  The,  199. 
Rip  Van  Winkle,  21. 
Kiryd,  53. 

Robin  Goodfellow.  50. 
Rodahver,  374. 
Rodmar,  196. 
Romeo  and  Juliet,  49. 
Rosetta-stone,  The.  356. 
Rubaiyat,  The,  370,  372,  373,  374,  375,  408- 

417. 


INDEX. 


RliiJiffer,  Ti 

- 
Saint  1 1  Helena, 

Saint  Tamm  . 

- 
- 

II,  51. 

Saturn 
: 

■ 


• 


• 


Silt  in. 

s,  12. 

Smith, 

s 

Smith 

I 


448 


INDEX. 


Tamberskelver.  Einar,  157. 

Tammany,  Tammenund,  Saint,  19. 

Tarn  o1  Shanter,  52,  142-149. 

Tamzi,  328,  329. 

Tarenyawagon,  1". 

Tarnk'appe,  194,  195. 

Taylor,  Bayard.  1611.  330. 

Taylor,  Extracts  from,  1G0,  328,  330,  351- 

352,  364-365. 
Taylors  Assyrian  Night-Song,  351-352. 
Taylor's  To  the  Nile,  364-365. 
Taylor's  Tyre,  330. 
Taylor,  Zachary,  13. 
Tegner,  Bishop  Esaias.  10,  158.  159. 
Tegner's  Fridthjofs  Saga,  158,  159,  167- 

170. 
Tegner's  Saga  of  Axel,  170-192. 
Tell.  William,  9. 
Temora,  45. 

Tennyson,  Alfred,  10,  51. 
Tennyson's  Boadicea.  50. 
Tennyson,  Extracts  from,  42,  43,  44,  46, 

50,  101-118,  125-132. 
Tennyson's  Guinevere,  101-118. 
Tennyson's  Voyage  of  Maeldune,  46, 125- 

132. 
Tennyson,  Hallam.  201. 
Tezcatlipoca.  19,  20. 
Thammuz,  327. 
Theodosius,  355. 

Thor,  152.  153,  155. 

Thorwald.  159. 

Thorwald's  Lay,  160,  163-165. 

Thorwaldsen,  157. 

Thoth.  355. 

Tieck,  199. 

Tiglathinin,  329. 

Tigris,  329. 

Titania,  50. 

Tlazolteotl.  19. 

Tloquenalmaque,  19. 

Tonatiuh,  19. 

To  the  Nile.  364-365. 

Trimurti,  The,  268. 

Tristan,  Tristram,  9.  43,  51,  52. 

Tristan  and  Isolde.  43. 

Tristram  of  Lyonessc  ."i2,  92-101. 

Troyanova,  Troynovant,  39. 

Try'ggvesson,  Olaf,  150. 

Twain.  Mark,  same  as  Samuel  L.  Clem 
ens.  52. 

Twilight  of  the  Gods,  151,  155,  199. 

Typhon,  355. 

Tyr,  Tys,  153,  155. 

Unaratutu,  329. 

Uhland,  199. 


Filer,  153. 

Ulvsses,  194. 

Una,  49. 

Urd,  154. 

Uriel.  370. 

Ute,  Queen,  194. 

Uther,  50. 

Vala,  156. 

Vala,  The  Song  of,  160-163. 

Vale.  Vali.  153. 

Valhalla,  155. 

Valkyries,  The,  155,  199. 

Valmiki.  272. 

Vanaheim,  154. 

Vans,  The,  154. 

Veda.  271. 

Vedder.  374,  375. 

Veiled  Prophet  of  Khorassan,  The,  375. 

Verdande,  154. 

Verdi,  Giuseppe,  357. 

Vidar,  153,  155. 

Viking's  Code,  The,  167. 

Virginius.  8. 

Vishnu,  267,  268,  269,  273. 

Vivien,  same  as  Lady  of  the  Lake,  44. 

Vohu-mano,  368. 

VSluspa,  The,  156. 

Voyage  of  Maeldune,  The,  125-132. 

Vullush  III,  329. 

Vvasa.  272. 

Wacner,  43,  156,  157.  199. 

Wallace's  Fair  God,  21. 

Wenonah,  18. 

West-Eastern  Divan,  The,  376,  418-439. 

Wetuo  Manitos,  16. 

Whittier,  John  Greenleaf ,  20. 

Whittier,  Extracts  from,  16, 18,  154,  268. 

Wiglaf,  48. 

Winchester,  41. 

Worms,  194.  195. 

Yama.  same  as  Yemen.  268. 

Yankee  in  King  Arthur's  Court,  52. 

Yemen,  same  as  Yama,  268. 

Ygdrasil,  155. 

Ymcr,  same  as  Imir,  151. 

Yssel,  same  as  Isenland,  195. 

Zal,  372.  374. 

Zames,  331. 

Zarathustra,   same    as   Zoroaster,   366, 

367,  373. 
Zarina,  331. 
Zend,  366. 
Zoroaster,  same  as  Zarathustra,  366,  367, 

373. 
Zuleika,  same  as  Suleika,  371,  421,  422, 

425,  427,  429. 


THE    END. 


'    NIVERSITY  OF  -"-Al  " 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 

AT 

LOS  ANGELES 

LIBRARY 


AA    000  712  680    8 


